Superheroes don't (always) wear capes
by My name's AC
Summary: This is us: agents with an espionage and law-enforcement agency, married, with 9 kids, two guns in the safe, sensitive information in the desk, 968,562 toys throughout the house, a dishwasher waiting to be emptied, a washing machine waiting to be filled and there's always something lost somewhere in the house. (AU fic. Philinda and other characters) - COMPLETE
1. Morning routines

**This idea… well, I don't know how it happened, but here it is. I only have to clarify that Trip, Hunter, Ward, Fitzsimmons and Skye are children in this story, but nothing happened to them; it's an AU where Coulson and May adopted them when they were little kids.**

**Useful information on the kids' ages: Trip is 13, Hunter is 10, Ward is 9, Simmons is 8, Fitz is 7 and Skye is 5.**

**Huge thanks to beta reader Caitlin51.**

* * *

May's eyes opened as the sun's rays hit her in the face. She exhaled deeply and shifted in bed, watching her husband, who was still sleeping quietly. His chest rose and dropped smoothly. Coulson was lying down face up, one arm resting over his forehead, the other one lying over his stomach, when the alarm clock rang. May smiled lightly, seeing how his face crumpled up in a frown. Like a little kid, he rubbed his eyes as he groaned, and it was up to her to lean over his body and shut off the alarm clock.

He looked up at her and gave her a sleepy smile. "Morning," he greeted her with a husky voice.

"Morning," she replied, pecking his lips and sitting up in bed. "I'm getting the kids ready, you take care of breakfast."

May got up out of bed immediately; Coulson rolled over and whined quietly, pulling the covers over his head.

Entering the boys' bedroom was the same as entering a battlefield: don't touch anything and look where you're stepping. It was possible to divide the bedroom into four distinct areas, because each one of the boys had a different personalities and interests.

Grant slept on the bed by the corner, near the window. He used it to his advantage, to have his personal display of cars, planes and soldiers lining up on the window sill. May _wondered_ from whom he may have discovered that love for collectibles.

Leo had his own corner as well where he had nothing more than his bed and his crazy experiments hidden under it. And he also had books, tons of them, especially science and mathematics books. He was only seven; he wasn't expected to be such a good reader as he was.

The oldest one, Trip, had the tidiest part of the bedroom. There were two shelves packed with books of all genres that he had read and reread again and again. On the wall in front of his bed was a spot of peeled off paint, a result of him throwing a baseball over and over again at the wall.

Although Lance had his part of the bedroom, his stuff was scattered _everywhere_. His dirty clothes piled up over his bed (or under it) and floor, his soccer ball and his soccer shoes were somewhere around that bedroom (with a bit of luck, he could locate them). The only thing that was exclusive on his side of the bedroom were his many video games, stacked on a shelf put over his bed.

May walked in, stepping over ten different Lego pieces and three tiny toy soldiers that were on the floor. She silently groaned as she stepped on some stray Legos, feeling the toys almost drilling a hole into her bare feet. She took a moment to look at the sleeping boys. Trip was completely sprawled out in bed, one arm thrown one way, a leg to the other, Grant was on the edge of the bed, back turned to the window, and Lance (surprise, surprise!) wasn't in bed. Walking to the window, May opened the curtains, listening to two different whines, Trip's and Grant's. Leo didn't make a sound because he slept completely under the covers, so the sunlight didn't bother him at all.

"I'm going to wake up your sisters. You better have your butts out of your beds when I come back here."

May used the same treatment with the girls, opening the curtains, to let the sunlight into the bedroom. Jemma, as always, woke up in a good mood, stretching her body and smiling up at her mother.

"Morning, Mom."

"Morning," May couldn't help but to smile back at her. "Start getting ready, Jemma."

Skye, unlike her sister, rolled over in bed, burying her head in her pillow and sticking her butt up. May tried to pull the sheets back but Skye clung to them strongly. It was a battle of stubbornness from both sides until May won and got the five-year-old out of bed. Getting the girl dressed was another battle that May also won. While Skye was getting dressed, Jemma tapped on the hamster's glass case, torturing him in the early morning for the purpose of science. Most of the time the animal starved because of the girl's negligence and it would already be dead if it wasn't for her father feeding the poor thing.

As May was about to leave the bedroom, she saw a cup on the desk. Picking it up she realized that she had come across the source of intense smell that had been lingering on the room.

"Do I want to know what's in this cup?"

Jemma looked at her mother and answered promptly, "It's an experiment. I'm still waiting for you and Dad to give me a microscope so I can look at it."

May frowned, "This is muddy water. You're going to throw it away."

The girl pouted but ended up nodding her head, grabbing the cup to dispose of its contents down the toilet. May made a mental note to talk to Coulson about getting Jemma a toy microscope. It'd make her happy for sure. The woman left the girl's room and made the way downstairs, dodging toys left on pretty much every step of the staircase, and found Lance sitting on the couch.

"Lance," she called, "go get ready."

He didn't answer. May wasn't exactly sure if he had heard her and pretended he didn't, or if he hadn't really heard her at all, being entirely focused on the video game.

"Don't make me call your name one more time, Lance," May warned.

He remained still, holding the video game controller in his hands, pushing the buttons quickly. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, lips parted and drool dripped from the corner of his mouth down to his lap. He had been playing video games all night; as soon as he sensed everyone in the house was sleeping he escaped his bed and played a soundless game all night.

Suddenly the TV screen turned black and his head snapped from side to side as some sort of snore sound left his mouth.

May stood there, gazing him sternly, holding the remote control.

"I was two levels away to-"

He couldn't finish his sentence. He was fished out of the couch by his mother, who removed the video game controller from his hands and grabbed his wrist, and put him on his feet, on the way to his bedroom.

"Your father will decide for how long you'll be deprived of video games."

Lance tried to fight against her decision, but his mother's firm finger pointing him upstairs made him shush and march to the upper floor. As all the kids were out of bed and getting dressed, May decided to go and dress up as well. Coulson, in the kitchen, was desperate.

He opened the cabinets and realized they were short on bowls, as they were all still in the unemptied dishwasher. Once he fetched two of them, he faced another problem: they were running out of cereals. The choice was between Cheerios and Froot Loops, which he wasn't going to give to the kids, especially Skye and Leo. It gave them a sugar rush starting from the early morning, which wasn't at all wanted. So, it had to be Cheerios for everyone. They'd grumble a bit, but it'd wear off.

Coulson placed the cereal and milk filled bowls before Skye's, Leo's and Jemma's seats, and then got the three older boys a glass of juice and bread slices with butter or jam. One by one they started taking their seats and eating breakfast silently. But Coulson's work wasn't done yet. He still had to prepare coffee for himself and tea for May, and if time would allow, he'd start emptying the dishwasher. But there was no time for that. May rushed into the kitchen and Coulson realized they were tight on time.

May took a mug and leaned on the kitchen counter, taking sips of the tea, watching the kids having breakfast. Coulson left the kitchen, climbing upstairs in quick strides, avoiding toys left and right. He had to make it through showering, dressing, and making seven beds before it was time to leave. And obviously he still had to have his morning coffee, or else his day wouldn't start with the right energy. Upon entering the laundry room to drop his used towel, he saw the Everest-like pile of clothes heaping up on the laundry basket. He grimaced and pictured a ton of work for him and May to do after their return home. There were a lot of things that could use some tidying.

He returned to the kitchen in quick steps and grabbed his coffee mug. Chaos ruled the kitchen where once silence had reigned; the kids seemed more awake and talkative now. As they finished breakfast, one by one, they left their empty dishes in the sink and walked to brush their teeth, pee and get their jackets and schoolbags. Needless to say that one existing bathroom in the house and six children wasn't an ideal scenario, especially at such early morning hours. They waited by the door, and every day was the same grumbling. As the years went on, May and Coulson's ears turned deaf to their morning whines.

"Happy tenth anniversary," he kissed her tenderly. "and to easier mornings."

May smiled, "And to ten more years to come." She clicked their coffee mugs and replied with a smirk, "In ten years our oldest will be 23 and our youngest 15. Things will be easier then."

That remark left the two slightly saddened.

"We still have a long road ahead of us though," May tugged his tie and pulled him into a kiss.

"We're ready!" Six voices chanted from the front door.

May and Coulson smiled and left their mugs in the sink, walking to meet their six children with schoolbags on their backs, lined up by the front door. The two adults got their guns and badges, some documents they'd need for the day, car keys and coats, and quickly eight people were making their way out the door.

It was hard to be them, but they wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

* * *

**Reviews are always appreciated. ^_^ Have a good 2015!**


	2. Pressure points

**So, this fanfiction was only meant to be an one-shot, but I guess people didn't get that idea or read the summary correctly. Therefore, I started getting ideas and decided to make this a multi-chapter story. I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I'm open to prompts, so if you have any idea, you can leave them in a review or PM me anytime and I'll do my best to write your suggestions.**

* * *

"Do it!" Lance incentivized, excited, "C'mon, Jem, do it."

"I can't," she bawled, wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her sweater. "I can't do it, Lance."

"Oh, come on, Jemma," Grant whined, "you made me get a frog from school. The least you can do is actually doing what you wanted to do with it."

"I won't hurt the poor little frog," she replied, crying harder.

"Knock it off, whiny baby," Lance grumbled, "just cut it."

Jemma continued to protest, crying and crying. Trip was trying not to listen to those three in the kitchen, focusing on getting the roller chain of his bicycle back on the sprocket, until Skye showed up on the porch again, concerned.

"They gonna do somet'ing bad, Trip," the girl said, hurriedly, "Do somet'ing. Jemma's crying."

The teenager got up and walked to the kitchen. Grant, Jemma and Lance were around the kitchen table, the girl holding a butter knife over an unconscious frog laid over the table. Jemma was crying, Grant seemed clueless and Lance was mostly grumbling about his crying sister. Trip left out the front door, walking to the neighbor's house. As the oldest he was in charge of keeping an eye on his siblings while Mom and Dad were at work. He had lots of help though: Mary Elizabeth "Mimi" Stanley, the middle-aged woman from next door. She was the person the kids should go to if anything happened when they were alone at home.

"Mimi?" Trip called as he knocked on the door.

The redheaded woman opened the door, "Antoine," She offered a smile, "is everything alright?"

"Jemma's crying and there's an apparently dead frog over our kitchen table. Can you come help us?"

The woman quietly chuckled and walked out to the porch, "Of course. Let's see what's going on."

* * *

_Half an hour_ _earlier_

All the kids were home from school. Lance and Grant did their homework in the kitchen, or actually, Lance pretended to do homework until Grant helped him, Trip was in the backyard, trying to fix his bicycle, Skye sat on the porch step, watching him and complaining about being bored. Leo and Jemma were in the living room, he was reading, she was munching on a slice of apple pie. The boy was sprawled on the couch, hanging upside down, his legs resting over the back of the couch.

"You know what I'm going to do today, Leo?" Jemma spoke, trying to get her brother's attention.

"'nother experiment?" He asked, not tearing his eyes from his book.

"Uh-huh," she hummed along with a nod. "Grant said he'd get me a frog from his biology class so I can dissect it."

Jemma walked to her bedroom, the phrase 'I'm going to do homework' hovering in the air as she walked away. Leopold frowned and leaned the book against the bridge of his nose, staring at the ceiling. He adjusted on the couch, sitting up as he thought, intrigued. Making the way to his own room, Leo fetched the dictionary from Trip's shelf and looked for the word 'dissect'. He sat on the edge of Lance's bed and placed the book over his lap.

With his index he followed the words as he read, "Dissect, verb, to cut apart to examine the structure, relation of parts, or the like; to examine minutely part by part, analyze."

He gasped and his eyes widened. Tossing the dictionary over the bed, he ran across the house to look for his older brother.

"Trip!" He shouted once he found him in the garden, "Trip, Trip, Trip!" The boy called again, hoping.

"Take a breath, Leo. What's the matter?" Trip asked, wiping off the oil of his hands onto his jeans (May _loved_ to see those stains later on…).

"It's Jemma. She's gonna _dissectate_ a frog."

"Dissect you mean," The older boy supplied the right word. He placed his hand over his brother's head and ruffled his hair, "Jemma loves to do experiments. She'll be ok, Leo."

He was sure Jemma would be fine; he wasn't so sure about the frog. Leo returned to his seat at the couch and made sure to ignore all the fuss that followed after.

* * *

"That's a big, ugly and slick-y frog," Jemma commented, looking at the jar that contained the frog.

"Well," Grant began, "my class doesn't get small, pretty and clean frogs. Here," he gave her a cotton ball, which he also brought from school, "put it in the jar. It's has chloroform and should put it to sleep."

"What're you gonna do with the frog, Jem?" Lance asked, raising his head from the book he was reading.

"Dissect him. Mr. Winter says we won't get to dissect frogs 'til fifth grade but I want to now."

"You can always wait."

"Too much of a wait," she replied, opening the lid of the jar.

"You're in third grade," Lance answered back, "only two more years and you get to dissect frogs." His attention turned to his sister as he saw her going to the cutlery drawer and bringing a butter knife. "You gonna cut it open? Cool. I wanna see that."

"That's what dissect means, Lance." The girl chirped, "You should study more."

Lance stuck his tongue out in response to Jemma's advice. As soon as the girl pulled the frog out of the jar and laid it down over the table, she couldn't bring herself to cut it open. Jemma began pouting and tears pooled in her eyes.

"Do it!" Lance incentivized, excited, "C'mon, Jem, do it."

"I can't," she bawled, wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her sweater. "I can't do it, Lance."

"Oh, come on, Jemma," Grant whined, "you made me get a frog from school. The least you can do is actually doing what you wanted to do with it."

"I won't hurt the poor little frog," she replied, crying harder.

"Knock it off, whiny baby," Lance grumbled, "just cut it."

Jemma continued to protest, crying and crying. "If you won't do it, I will." He said, trying to get the knife from her hand.

When Mimi and Trip walked in the kitchen, Skye following after them, they saw Jemma crying, Lance and Grant fighting over the knife and the frog on the table. The woman immediately removed the knife from their hands and after putting it away, she turned her attention to Jemma. Trip placed his hands on the back of his brothers' necks and guided them to the living room, putting each of them in a corner. Lance immediately slid down the wall, and sat on the floor, crossing his left foot over the other ankle.

"I'm sorry guys, but you two are on time-out. You know you shouldn't play with knives."

"It was Lance's fault," Grant accused, tears brimming in his eyes. "He took the knife from Jemma and I tried to take it from him."

The other crossed his arms and said nothing in his defense, his frown creasing even more.

"It's good that you've apologized but you still have to be on time-out. Knives aren't toys. And you," Trip pointed his finger at Lance, "you'll think of what you've done and then you'll apologize to Jemma for being rude to her."

As Trip was about to leave, to meet Mimi and Jemma in the kitchen, Leo said with a small daring voice, "I warned you."

The older boy exhaled and rolled his eyes, continuing to walk to the kitchen. Jemma was calmer and quietly walked to her bedroom. Trip accompanied Mimi to the door.

"Thanks, Mimi." He spoke wholeheartedly, "You're a great help."

"It's alright, sweetie. I'm always happy to help with whatever you need. Your parents trusted you with the task of keeping an eye on the little ones and I can't imagine how hard it must be on you to hold things together. You're very mature for your age, Antoine."

"Thank you," he said shyly after receiving the compliment.

Trip was about to return to his bicycle, knowing for sure that after that nothing else that troubling could happen when Skye showed up in front of him.

"C'n I ride your bike?"

"No."

"Why?" She insisted, following him to the backyard.

"Because you need a smaller bicycle, with training wheels."

"I can reach the pedals on yours. Let me ride it, please." Skye begged.

"No," Trip repeated.

"Why not?"

"Because it's my bike and last time you picked it up, you broke it."

"I didn't break it. It fell-"

He didn't let her finish, "It fell because you tried to ride it and knocked it down on the ground instead."

"If you don't let me ride your bike I'll tell Mom and Dad 'bout the frog."

At that Trip turned around; Skye had a mischievous grin spreading across her face, she knew she had won. Trip picked her up in his arms and sat her over the saddle of his bike, keeping one hand on the handlebar grip and the other on the back of the saddle, pushing her around.

* * *

May and Coulson found it strange how silent and still the kids were, but they didn't felt like disrupting the rare peace that the kids offered. May walked to the kitchen to prepare dinner and after loosening his tie knot and rolling up the shirt's sleeves, Coulson dedicated himself to folding clothes in the living room.

"How was your day, kids?" Coulson asked later at dinner, taking a forkful of rice to his mouth.

"Good," they all quietly mumbled, discreetly looking between each other.

"Trip wouldn't let me ride the bike." Skye said and Trip rose his head, hoping she'd stick to her promise and not say anything about that afternoon's incident.

"The bicycle is too big for you." May pointed out, "You can ride the tricycle-"

"I'm not a baby," she grumbled, "I won't ride the t'icycle."

May and Coulson looked at each other, the same thought going through their heads. Skye actually had grown too old to ride the tricycle. Coulson and May adopted her when she was three and bought it for her then, but soon she lost interest in it, so it barely had use. Besides, the younger kids did need a smaller bicycle to ride, since there was only one in the house and it belonged to Trip, Grant and Lance, the only ones tall enough to ride it. Maybe Santa Claus would come around a little earlier that year.

As they were doing the dishes, Coulson commented, "You know, the Thompson's youngest kid's birthday is coming up and they always invite our kids to the birthday party."

The Thompson's were their neighbors from a few houses down who had three kids, one of them a toddler whose birthday was coming up.

May added, "And we never know what to buy their kids."

"Exactly. The tricycle is almost brand new and I think I still have the box in the basement. We can put the tricycle in the box, wrap it and offer it to the kid. I'm sure he'll love it."

"And we'd certainly become even more their favorite neighbors," May added, "and in case you've forgotten, I can't stand that woman -"

"I know you don't like her that much, but they're good people," May looked at him, "- deep down - and they can be useful to us one day, so it's good if we're friends with them."

"When will we need them? When we need to know where to get the cheapest Botox filling or where to buy the best brand of suits?"

Coulson chuckled, "Yeah, they're a bit snobby, but their kids aren't and deserve to be happy. Just think of them."

"Poor things."

"I know," Coulson agreed, putting the clean plates in the cupboard, "let's hope they won't grow up to be assholes."

"Might be a little too late for that already. You know what the Jenkins' wife calls them? Birth control for this entire neighborhood."

"Did you - did you hear that?" Coulson asked, turning his head from the sound was coming from. "Is that a croak?" He frowned as he turned to May, "We have a frog at home?"

"Wouldn't be surprising," She replied with a sigh, tossing the dish cloth over the counter, following after the sound with Coulson.

Apparently none of the kids ever remembered that the frog had only been put to sleep with chloroform, so they never bothered to look for it, or were even aware of its presence in the house. Upon hearing the croaking sounds, the kids also got up and subtly started looking for the frog. Coulson and May saw one of her shoes hopping away, and once the kids tried to deviate their attention and lied to them about the frog's presence, the idea of buying a new bicycle was put on hold. The frog hopped out of the shoe and it was caught by the woman. Coulson and Mary took it to the living room, telling all the kids to sit at the couch and explain as to why they had found a frog in a shoe. The kids went to bed late but the story behind the frog was solved.

* * *

**A little review would be nice. And don't forget, if you have ideas, let me know. I'll be happy to hear and write them.**


	3. Team of choice

**Here is one new chapter, this one more focused on Lance, with flashbacks of his adoption.**

**Next chapter will be about the kids reacting to Coulson being hurt on the job (requested by an anon). And to clear things about Coulson and May's jobs: both are SHIELD agents; May works in administration, Coulson works a tactical agent (prepares missions, and takes part in some of them)**

* * *

Lance was overly excited for the whole week as soon as he found out from his football's coach that a talent scout would be watching his team's match that would be over the weekend. Apparently he was looking to recruit one or two kids from several local teams to get them to play at state level. Being a footballer was something Lance had always wanted to be since he had learned to kick a ball, almost since had learned to stand up and walk.

* * *

_London, UK_

_The boy looked like a modern version of Oliver Twist, as hungry, poor and lonely as the character from the book. He was playing soccer all alone in a vacant lot. His sneakers had holes, the shorts he wore were dangling off his skinny hips as he ran back and forth, kicking up dust, and his white T-shirt was marred by dust. With skinned knees and sweat dripping down his flushed face, he kicked the ball over and over again at his improvised goal; two empty cans placed on the ground working as the goalposts._

_"Bloody hell," he mumbled slightly louder as he kicked the ball and knocked down a can._

_"Looks like your target is the cans and not the goal."_

_Lance snapped his head to where the voice sounded. Coulson and May approached him._

_"What's your name, kid?" Coulson asked._

_"First name, 'none of your', last name 'damn business'," Lance replied, picking up the fallen can._

_"Oh, that's a nice name," the man played along with him. "And where do you live? Somewhere as interesting as your name, I'm guessing."_

_"Yup," the kid continued, non-interested, "I live on 'why do you care?' street." After he put the can on an upright position again, he resumed playing football on his own, "What are you doing here, exactly?"_

_"I'd like you to tell me about that wallet you have in your pocket," May spoke, pointing at Lance's pocket, "Where you got it and all that."_

_May and Coulson weren't so worried that the wallet had been pickpocketed. They were intrigued and impressed, actually. The kid had skills, and with a little help maybe they could help him choose a right path for his life instead of becoming a pickpocket and God know what else. Besides, he was one cheeky yet adorable kid. He had the heart the size of the world and yet he always chose not to show it._

_Coulson smirked, "I'm sure if you look at the photo of the driver's license you'll find that the man on the photo strangely resembles me."_

_"You've followed me all the way here," Lance concluded._

_"Yes. And we've come to an interesting conclusion - you are an orphan. Now, what I can't get is that you stole my wallet and yet still haven't spent a single coin of my money. I wonder why."_

_"I'm saving it for when I'm hungry."_

_"Oh, I see," Coulson said with a nod. "Do you think you can at least give me back my documents?"_

* * *

"Sit down," Grant asked as he rested back on the couch and rubbed his forehead, "you're making me dizzy."

"It's a big game for me. I can go to play state level. I can't sit down." Lance replied, walking from side to side in the living room. "Mom, Dad!" he shouted, looking upstairs, "What's taking you so long? We have to go or we'll be late."

"There's still one hour to go 'til the game," Coulson affirmed, coming down the stairs, "relax, buddy."

Lance exhaled deeply and adjusted the strap of the sports' bag in the shoulder. "Do you think I'm gonna do well?"

"Lance," His father placed his hand over the boy's shoulders and look into his eyes, "you are the best player in the team. And I'm not just saying this because I'm your father."

"Ugh, it's not like you have much experience with football to make a comparison."

"Mel, hurry up please," Coulson called, "Lance's very restless."

"He'll drive us all insane before we make it to the game," Trip sighed, flipping through the channels.

* * *

The family sat on the bleachers and Lance walked to the small locker room to get changed into his equipment. The rows of benches started getting occupied slowly, and once the game was about to begin, the bleachers were packed with people, mostly families of the kids. Obviously Coulson and May were rooting for Lance, but they were hoping he hadn't set his hopes too high. He was a marvelous player, that much was true, but the coach's son, Tyler, also played in the team, so they were expecting some sort of cheating move from the coach to get his son chosen by the talent scout. Lance scored two goals before half-time and his team was comfortably winning by a margin of three goals. The coach seemed upset at his own son for not being able to keep up with Lance's performance and murmured things at him on the way to the locker room.

At the beginning of the second half, things got complicated. There was a massive mess in the penalty area and Lance was stopped for a foul. The referee called out a penalty kick favoring Lance's team but he was still lying down on the field, holding his right ankle. The play was put on hold and the referee was crossing the pitch to meet him. Tyler was by Lance's side, a guilty expression spreading across his face.

"Get your ass moving, Lance," Coach Oaks shouted. "You'll get a yellow card if you keep pretending."

But he didn't move; he wasn't pretending at all. May stood up to get a clearer look and Coulson unintentionally held her wrist, on an attempt to get her to sit down again. He thought she was upset about the couch yelling at their son, but she was looking at the boy with hawk eyes and without a warning she ran into the field.

"What are you doing?" Oaks yelled at May, "he's alright. He better get up now and stop faking."

"He's not faking," May responded. By this time Coulson was also standing and unconsciously making his way down to the pitch as well.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm his mother," she spat angrily and ducked next to Lance, "let me see it."

Lance was sobbing, tears rushing down his face. He never cried, so it was serious. Slowly May removed his soccer shoe, as the boy whimpered, and she saw his ankle swelling and the unusual shape that the bone presented indicated the injury was a bad one. When he was asked if he could move his foot, he tried to do so and bawled.

"He sprained his ankle," May concluded, looking up at her husband.

As Coulson carried the boy in his arms, May beckoned to the other children and they all headed to the hospital. The results were worse than expected for striker Lance: a broken ankle; he'd have to keep a plaster cast for six to eight weeks and would have to befriend crutches in the meantime. Lance didn't feel pain, as he was under the effect of painkillers, but once they got home he was so devastated that he cried himself to sleep. The next day he didn't want to go to school, and Coulson and May exceptionally unsurprisingly let it pass once. May then worked from home the following day, so she could stay with Lance.

* * *

_"Come on kid," Coulson insisted, "I'll let you keep the money, just give me my documents, please. We'll even take you to eat something if you want."_

_"I can't give you the documents," Lance said, looking down._

_May understood the situation in a second flat, "What's his name?"_

_The boy looked up at May and whispered, scared, "Marcus. He lets me keep the money of the wallets, but I have to give him the IDs."_

_"He fakes them, right?" The woman got a nod as an answer. "What does he to you if you don't do what he asks?"_

_Lance shrugged. He had been punched and slapped quite a few times, in the beginning, when he didn't fulfill the agreement. Coulson crossed the distance between them and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders._

_"Forget about Marcus. He won't hurt you anymore, alright?"_

_"You can't promise that."_

_"We can. All you have to do is trust us. Now," Coulson breathed deeply and tried to switch the tone of the conversation, "Melinda and I are starving. Do you know where we can have some food?"_

_Lance was still downcast and simply pointed in the general direction of the road that lead to the populated area._

_"Join us for dinner. I'm paying," He reached the boy's pocket and fetched his wallet, "with my money."_

_The three entered a small pub a few blocks away from the vacant lot. They all had fish and chips as a football match was on the TV. Lance was so happy to eat and watch football that he loosened up and started talking, as the sweet, funny and sarcastic boy he was. The more he talked, the more Coulson and May fell for him._

* * *

When Coulson arrived from work, he was greeted by five of his children who were watching TV in the living room. He made his way to the office room, finding May there, buried in paperwork.

"We've been waiting for you to have dinner," May didn't look away from the papers, she simply tilted her head, offering her cheek to receive a kiss as Coulson leaned to smooch her, "The kids are hungry - they sound like they haven't eaten in days."

"Sorry," he said with a smile, "traffic was a chaos. And I went to speak with Coach Oaks."

"What did he say?" She asked, her gaze shifting to him.

"Not much, I barely let him speak. I started talking as a civilized person, but once I learned about he had done, I couldn't help it. I said we didn't need his money but told him he'd have to pay for the hospital expenses or else we'd file charges against him."

"So you know about it too."

"That he made Tyler hurt Lance on purpose so that his kid could be chosen? Yes, he told me. And he laughed!" Coulson said louder, and angrier, remembering the moment. He leaned on the desk and looked down at her, "How do you know about it?"

May rested back on the chair, having a clear view of her husband, "Tyler came by after school. He wanted to talk with Lance, I convinced him to hear him out. The kid left in tears and Lance was as cool as always." May tossed the pen she was holding over the desk, continuing, "Do you know they even lied to the whole team? The talent scout wasn't looking for kids to play in the state team. The guy wanted to get kids to do tryouts for English teams."

"Oh no. How did Lance react to that?"

"Really well. I may have had an influence on his behavior: the talk we had actually worked." May smiled, "Apparently the Oaks family will be moving to London soon. Lance shook Tyler's hand and wished him good luck." As she secretly listened to the whole conversation between Lance and Tyler, she knew what she was talking about, "And he told him if he hadn't lied to him they could still be friend and he wouldn't have needed to break his ankle. He said, and I quote, I play football for fun, and I'd never leave my family for any team. They chose me for be part of their family and I'd never leave them. They're my team."

Like May, Coulson felt his heart nearly imploding. Lance could be a sweet kid, he just never showed it.

"He's in his bed?"

May firstly nodded and then added, "His teacher emailed me what his class learned today, along with the homework, so he was in his bedroom studying almost all afternoon."

Coulson met the boy tucked in his bed; the crutches were on the floor next to him. "Hey there, kid. How's your ankle?"

"Better. Mom kept putting ice on it and gave me tablets for the pain."

He sat on the edge of the bed and suggested, "Football might be the last thing you want to think of right now, but what do you say, going to that Brit pub downtown? Just you and me. We'd eat there and watch a Premiere League match."

Lance smiled, "I'm up for it. As long as you don't comment on the football game until you learn about it."

"You have to teach me about it." The man chuckled and clapped the boy's leg, "Put your shoes on and get your jacket. I'll tell your mother the two of us are eating out."

* * *

_Coulson and May walked Lance to the orphanage later on that day. One of the employers was surprised upon learning that they wanted to adopt Lance. No one ever wanted to adopt him before. Once a couple would meet him at the orphanage they'd immediately give up on the idea of taking him home. He was a healthy and good-looking boy, but he was cheeky, a slacker and a joker, being somewhat defiant sometimes._

_May finally spoke, "The woman asked us why we are giving ourselves the trouble of wanting to adopt you. She said you the worst kid that there is in this orphanage."_

_"Then why are you thinking about it?" Lance questioned, looking away as tears brimmed his eyes, "I've been an orphan since I was born, I was abandoned here. I'm eight now, I've hit that age. No one will ever want to adopt me from now on. Why are you giving yourselves the trouble? I don't care if I live here 'til I die."_

_"Because you are worth it, Lance," Coulson said. "We want to take you to our home in the States. You'll have five other siblings, all just like you, adopted. There's Skye, Leo, Jemma, Grant and Trip. You're going to love them, and they'll love you back."_

_"What about you two?" He questioned looking between the two of them, "I'm a person, not a dog. You can't choose to adopt me and then-"_

_"We're picking you for our team," May said, a small smile gracing her face features. "Aren't you so into football? Then see it like that. We want you in our team."_

* * *

**You'll get to learn about all of the kids' adoption background and the reasons as to why May and Coulson adopted them. And, for your understanding, this is the order and age of adoption for all of them:**

**1\. Jemma (1)**

**2\. Trip (7)**

**3\. Grant (6)**

**4\. Leo (5) and Skye (3)**

**5\. Lance (8)**


	4. Burned

**A prompt requested by an anonymous reviewer: the kids reacting to Coulson being hurt.**

* * *

May couldn't fall asleep. Coulson had been out on a mission for the past week, and was supposed to arrive home that night. She already knew he was hurt; he had called her hours before, saying he was alright and that he'd arrive home that day. But he didn't tell her what had happened. May kept making up excuses to avoid their kid's questions, but Trip was the one she was most worried about. He was the only one who knew they were spies, so kept on asking her if his father was alright. Luckily, she was able to put all the kids to sleep without having to say anything else. And luckily Coulson should arrive soon.

She heard his steps as he tried his best to quietly walk around the house. As she got up, Coulson walked to the bathroom and dropped his bag on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

"How did the mission go?" she asked softly, walking into the bathroom.

He struggled and groaned as he loosened the tie knot, "Bad. Really bad. Lost two agents and fifteen civilians."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

"There was nothing I could do about it. You'll read about it on the report soon."

"Where are you hurt?"

Coulson didn't answer her, as he battled against his shirt between groans, trying to strip it off. She helped him and saw a big red mark coming from his left shoulder down to the middle of the arm, spreading across his back and the left part of his chest.

"What the doctor say about that?" she asked as she washed her hands before treating his injury.

"Second degree burn. Not too concerning though. Two or three weeks and it should heal."

He wheezed as his wife carefully washed the burnt area with cold water and soap. She frowned with pity every time he whimpered, but she had to do it.

"Go to bed," she ordered, "I'll be right there."

May looked around for a towel and then went to fetch a small bowl from the kitchen that she filled with cool water. When she got to the bedroom, Coulson was lying on his right side, blowing on his wound.

"Don't blow on it," May grumbled as she placed the bowl and the towel over the bedside table, "You'll infect it."

Coulson whined quietly and laid his head back on the pillow. May kept applying the damp towel to his burnt area. He sighed, relieved, every time he felt the coolness spreading across the burnt skin. She spend half an hour doing it, her back beginning to hurt from leaning over him, but it was worth it as Coulson was almost asleep.

"I'll get some ointment," May spoke quietly.

"'t's 'kay," he mumbled, almost asleep, "'m 'etter now."

She got up anyways and when she returned to the bedroom he was already sleeping. After rubbing the ointment on his skin, she loosely covered the burnt area with a bandage and patches and watched him sleep for a while. He seemed much more relieved now. May pulled the bed sheets up to his hip and laid down in bed, going to sleep as well.

* * *

"Where's Dad?" Skye asked, munching a mouthful of Cookie Crisps.

"Let this be a warning for all of you," May began, looking at all of them, and only continued talking once she got all the kids' attention, "Your father is sick, and he's staying home, so I want you not to bother him once you get home from school, alright?"

All six of them asked questions at the same time, making it impossible for May to understand any question at all, even though she had an idea of what they wanted to know.

"He hurt his arm, the left one, so please be careful with him."

They nodded their heads and didn't ask any more question, resuming eating breakfast. May had extra work that morning, having to take two trips to the school as she couldn't transport all six of them at the same time. When she returned home the second time, Coulson was already awake and out of bed.

"Need any help?" he murmured sleepily.

"I need you to stay home and do nothing, understood?" May asked, staring him down until he gave up and nodded in agreement, "I just took the boys to school, now I'm taking Leo and the girls and then I'm off to work. I've told them to be careful with your arm, and you better not scratch the burn, or blow on it. And don't put icy water on it, understand?"

Phil smiled and pressed a kiss on her forehead, "Understood, Mom. Now go or you'll be late."

Before leaving out the door, she looked back and told him, "Call me 'Mom' again and I'll burn your other arm."

"Love you too," he grinned.

* * *

As he was home alone doing nothing, Coulson decided to slowly start doing the menial tasks such as washing the breakfast dishes, doing the laundry and putting away the toys that were scattered around the house before focusing on writing the mission report. He was sure May would scold him, like a little kid, but he wasn't worried. Once the kids arrived home, he helped them with school work but they were all curious to know what was hidden under his bandages.

"What happened to your arm?" Trip inquired, eyes focused on the dressings.

"A burn. It'll heal soon, don't worry about it."

Jemma lifted her head and looked at her father, "Did Mom took care of it already?"

"Yes, doctor Jemma," he smiled, "Mom, and a doctor, have seen it. But I'd like to hear your diagnosis too. What will make it heal more quickly, doctor?"

The girl walked to him and kissed his cheek, "A lot of kisses and hugs."

Skye came to hug him tight and kiss him too, "Seems like a good healing process." He sat the two girls on his lap and asked, noticing that all the kids had abandoned their homework and were looking at him, "Next question?"

Leo asked, "How did it happen?"

"A wooden beam fell over me. The building was on fire, so I got burned."

As the kids frowned, wondering as to why their supposed business man Dad had been inside a burning building, Grant asked, "Did it hurt? You know, the wooden beam falling and the burn?"

"Yeah, it hurt a bit, especially the burn. My arm, chest and part of my back are very red and filled with blisters."

"Can I see it?" Lance piped up.

"Sure," Coulson put the girls down on their feet and unwrapped part of the bandage.

"It looks disgusting," the boy retorted, covering his eyes. "Thanks, Dad."

Coulson chuckled, "You were the one who wanted to see it," he told him, wrapping the bandages again. "Now that you've all asked your questions, get back to homework."

"I don't have homewo'k," Skye chirped.

"No you don't," he picked her up in his arms and walked to the kitchen, "Then what do you say about helping me with dinner? Mom deserves something really good and tasty for helping Dad last night."

* * *

**Leave me your reviews and suggestions. I'll be happy to write them. ^_^**


	5. Cheap shots

Saturday was quite a quiet day in the Coulson's house. Grant had left in the early morning to mow the lawn of a few neighbors, Trip was in charge of car washings and Lance walked dogs. They all wanted to gather up money since Father's Day was coming and they wanted to buy their father a nice present. The gift would be from all the six of them, even though the three youngest didn't take part in the money gathering. Skye was far too young to earn money doing anything, Jemma sometimes managed to get some money from tutoring other kids, but so far she had made no money, and Leo was absolutely forbidden to help ever since he tried to repair some electronics and managed to town-wide power outage.

"Phil?" May called in a husky voice, shifting in bed to find him still sleeping. She shook him, "Phil?"

"Uhm?" he hummed, eyes still closed.

"Don't you have to go to work?"

"No," Coulson finally opened his eyes and tried to swallow the bitter taste lingering in his mouth, "I'm staying home. We're going on a mission tomorrow to San Sebastian 'til the beginning of next week."

"And you were planning on telling me this when?"

"Last night. I forgot. Sorry."

It was perfectly excusable, May had to admit. Coulson had been preparing the mission the previous night, and once he arrived home he was so exhausted he made his way to bed and slept like a log.

"And you?" he asked, "Are you off duty today too?"

"I wish," she snorted, pushing the bed covers back and getting out of bed, "I have three hours of paperwork to do. And that's just the work I didn't do yesterday."

"Sounds painful."

"It is," May walked to the wardrobe and picked out clean clothes, "I'll go shower and then I'll leave the kids' breakfast prepared. You're on your own with them for the rest of the day."

"What is there to do?" he asked, sitting up in bed.

"Skye has a dentist appointment at 4, you have to take Grant to the meeting with the scouts-"

"Oh, yeah, he's camping this weekend," Coulson remembered.

"And his bag isn't prepared yet," she reminded, "Also, Trip and Lance have training today."

May had already walked out the door when Coulson starting repeating his list of tasks for his day, "Uhm, so drop off Trip at baseball and Lance at football, come home, pack Grant's bag, take him to the meeting, and then dentist with Skye. After that, pick up Trip and Lance. Shouldn't be too hard."

Trip, Lance and Grant arrived home almost at the same time, immediately going to the kitchen. May was preparing their breakfast already, Skye was sleeping was still sleeping in, and Jemma and Leo were at the table already downing their breakfast. The three boys counted the money they had gathered as they sat at the table.

"I have $10 from tutoring Jack from school," Jemma said before chewing on a spoonful of cereal.

"That's really good, Jem," Grant placed the money over the table, "That makes it $40."

"And for what is that money?" May asked, turning around.

"Dad's gift. Father's Day is next week," Leo explained.

"Uhm," the woman mumbled as she had a gulp of tea, "and what are you buying him?"

"We don't know yet. Maybe cufflinks," Trip told her. "But we don't know when to buy it either. We can't ask him to take us to a store, and if we ask you to take us, he'll suspect."

"He'll be working out of the country from tomorrow until next weekend. I can take you to a store someday this week. But for now keep the money. He's staying home today, and you don't want him finding out about the gift a week early."

Grant grabbed the money and put it in his pocket and began eating. Shortly after, Coulson entered the kitchen carrying Skye in his arms, and he sat her at her table.

"I've got it," he told May, seeing that she was going to begin preparing a meal for the younger girl.

"I'll run away, ya know?" Skye mumbled at her father.

"Why?" May asked with a frown, leaning on the kitchen counter again.

Coulson smiled a little and said, "She's already upset for having to go to the dentist."

"She should be," Grant began teasing, "he'll yank all of her teeth. They are all rotten from the candies she eats."

"Grant," May's voice was stern, and so was her gaze.

"Will he?" Skye looked up at her father, tears brimming in her eyes, "Will the dentist yank all my teeth?"

"Of course not," he stroked her hair and pressed a kiss on the top of head, "now eat."

May and Coulson left the kids eating in the kitchen, and went to gather their things, hashing out the details about their day in the meantime. Lance looked back and as his parents were out of sight, he whispered at Skye,

"He'll yank all your teeth. All of them."

Grant took Lance's side in tormenting their little sister, "And he'll use one of those big pliers and leave you toothless."

"You two are so childish," Trip replied, smacking the two in the back of their necks.

Skye's lip began to pout and she looked at Jemma, "Is it true? I'll be toothless?"

"If the teeth are rotten, then the dentist will take them. But," the girl rushed as the other began to cry quietly, "you'll have more teeth growing. You won't be toothless."

"Killjoy," Lance grumbled, looking sideways at Jemma.

"Next time you go to the doctor, Lance, he should rip off your tongue."

"Oh, wow," Trip laughed, "that was good, Jemma."

"Oh, wow, that was good, Jemma," Lance parroted in a high pitched voice, "If it was me you'd go like 'Oh, wow, Lance, you're so childish'."

"Maybe because you are," Trip replied as he got up and left his used cup in the sink.

Lance mimicked again while making faces, "Maybe because you are." Trip laced his arm around his brother's neck and slowly pulled him off from his chair and laid him down on the floor. Lance kicked up and yelled loudly, "Mom! Dad!"

Grant laughed as he ate and Trip walked out of the kitchen casually as Coulson rushed to enter.

"What are you doing on the floor, Lance?" The man asked.

"It was Trip," Lance accused in a pitched voice.

Coulson sighed loudly and helped the kid up, "You'll be the death of me."

"Wha- It wasn't me. Didn't you hear? It was Trip. Yell at him, it wasn't me." Lance grumbled, but his father had already left the kitchen.

May walked to the coat hanger and put on her leather jacket, "You'll be ok for the day?"

"No, no," Coulson whined, walking to her with quick steps, "Mel, they'll be the death of me."

"It's only a day. When you go on missions I have to endure that for over a week. You're not going to die."

"Yes, true, but they behave with you," he looked back, catching a glimpse of the kids in the kitchen, "When they are with me this house is like a Wild West movie."

"Maybe that's because you are a child around children. Show them you have to be respected. You can play with them but they need to be aware that you are their father, not their schoolmate."

"Easier said than done. Mel," he quietly pled as she walked out the door.

* * *

When May returned home that evening, she was greeted with the smell of dinner being made and the kids' excited babbles. Peeking into the living room she saw all five of them lying or kneeling on the floor and hundreds pieces of a puzzle scattered all over. She walked in the kitchen and Coulson turned around, greeting her with a wide smile.

"They seem calm," she affirmed, kissing his cheek. "For how long have they been around the puzzle?"

"Two or three hours," May's eyes widened, impressed. Coulson resumed his explanation, "I told them they could do anything they wanted if they'd assemble that 1000 piece puzzle."

"That's not how it works. You can't bargain with those kinds of things-"

"Ten to twenty pieces of the puzzle might be missing though," he said, showing her some puzzle pieces that he had in the pocket of his pants.

"Phil," May sighed with an eye roll.

* * *

**Next chapter: science babies dedicated chapter! **


	6. IQ - Idem Quod

**VERY IMPORTANT: There's a poll at my profile regarding this fanfiction. Go there and submit your votes. **

**So, here it is, the science babies chapter. Hope you guys like it.**

* * *

"Jem, come here," Coulson called.

"Yes, Dad?" she asked.

He patted the empty spot next to him on the couch and showed her a web page, "You know what Mensa is, right?"

"Uh-uhm," she hummed with a nod, "It's an organization that recognizes genius people."

"Glad you know that. Here," he pointed as he read, "You have to work out what the letters mean. See number 1 as an example. '24 H in a D' means 24 hours in a day. Got it, Jemma?"

"Yes."

"Think you can do the following ones?" he asked, getting up and placing the laptop on Jemma's lap.

"Want me to do them all?" she questioned, scrolling down the page and briefly checking the 33 enigmas.

"Do as many as you can. No pressure, alright, sweetheart? Call me when you're done."

Jemma nodded and read the additional information that the page presented and then started solving the riddles. Twenty minutes later the girl started searching for her father. He was in the backyard playing baseball with Trip.

"Daddy, I think I've finished," Jemma began. "I couldn't do them all but I've got 24 correct ones."

"24?" Coulson repeated, incredulous, taking off the baseball glove and dropping it on the grass as he walked to his daughter. "The test said more than 19 and you're considered a genius."

"I didn't cheat," the girl claimed.

"I believe you, Jemma." He guided Jemma back inside and the two walked to the living room where she had left his laptop, "Do you mind doing a different test for me?"

"Ok," she agreed, taking a seat on the couch again.

Before Coulson had time to search for another test, Leo showed up and peeked at the screen. He pointed at one of the unanswered riddles and said, "64 squares on a chess board."

"Come here, Leo," the man beckoned, pulling him closer. "Can you finish the ones Jemma didn't do?"

The boy managed to complete the answers his sister was unable to do. Coulson rubbed his eyes and sighed; he was astonished and slightly concerned.

"Ok, let's forget about these tests," he said, "why don't you go find something else to do?"

Leo and Jemma exchanged a look, shrugged and walked away. Coulson shut the laptop and searched for his wife. She was tending to Skye who was ill and confined to bed against her own will. As soon as he popped his head inside the bedroom, Skye sat up in bed.

"Let me leave my bed," she begged in a husky voice.

"Sorry, little bug. You're sick, you have to stay in bed." he replied. May looked back at him and he resumed his original task, "Can I speak with you for a second?"

May nodded and walked out of the bedroom for a moment, "What's the matter?"

"We have two geniuses in this house."

"Leo and Jemma, yes. Am I supposed to be surprised?"

He rolled his eyes, "I think we should take them to do some IQ tests. I asked Jemma to do a Mensa test; she scored 24 out of 33 answers. Leo showed up and solved the remaining 9 she couldn't answer."

Upon hearing a noise, May held up her hand telling him to wait. She opened the bedroom door and ordered, "Get in bed. Right now." Skye sighed and crawled under the bed sheets again. Once she closed the door, May turned to Coulson, "Alright, we can ask the neighbor to keep an eye on the others and we take Leo and Jemma to do a test tomorrow morning."

* * *

The couple was at the waiting room of the doctor's office with their two gifted children. Coulson and May sat next to each other; he was flipping through the pages of the newspaper he had brought from home; she was simply sitting there, waiting, profoundly bothered by the annoying background music. Jemma was observing the fish tank and the fish swimming around, and Leo was focused on the painting hanging on the wall behind them.

"It's weird," he said. Turning then to his mother, he asked, "What is that?"

May supplied, "Abstract art."

"It looks ugly. And stupid. I could do that too."

"Mr. Coulson, Mrs. May," the doctor showed up, "I've got the results here with me. Would you enter so we can discuss them for a while?"

The two promptly stood up and told the kids they wouldn't take long. As soon as they entered the room, the doctor pointed them to the chairs.

"So, what's the news, doctor?" Coulson asked, taking a seat.

"Leopold and Jemma are still somewhat young to draw any definitive and accurate assumptions, but I've been able to sketch some conclusions. Basing their results on the Wechsler's classification, Leopold has an IQ level of 134 and Jemma's is 145. These levels suggest that both of them fall on the 'very superior' classification. Only 2.2% of test subjects fall on this part of the spectrum."

Both May and Coulson were at a loss of words.

"Any suggestions, doctor?" May asked at last.

"You've told me that they attend public school, right?"

"Yes," Coulson confirmed, "Any problem with it?"

"Not at all," the man reassured, but added, "although they have more capabilities than an average child and deserve to be enrolled at a school that could fulfill their educational needs and expand them."

May retorted, not enjoying the doctor's tone of voice or subtle insinuations, "They are somewhat socially awkward. There's a reason why don't go to a private school. They go to public school, the same one as their siblings, and there's no harm in that. My husband and I both attended public schools and we didn't have any problems with it."

The doctor suddenly went a bit too red, "I didn't mean to imply any of that. My apologies if I did so. But," he cleared his throat, "maybe extracurricular activities could be a good call, given the fact that they don't currently do any activities outside school hours."

"Maybe because we don't want to overburden them," Coulson said calmly, "Really, my wife and I are well aware that Leo and Jemma are smarter than our other children, but there's no reason to differentiate or pressure them because of that. They never asked to be enrolled in any activity and we won't do it against their will. If they are indeed bright minds as you say, they'll do just fine later on in their lives without having the need to have an overloaded childhood or to go to a private school. More than being smart, they need to be loved and to be happy."

"I'm sorry if I offended you, but you did ask my suggestions. These are the ones I have to give you. It's up to you whether or not you wish to take them. That is simply that advice I give to parents who come in here to have their children tested. Not all of the subjects-"

"Stop calling them that," May snapped, "they are our children not your lab rats."

The doctor stammered for a while, but Coulson cut his speech short even before it had developed, "Thank you for your time, doctor, but this was a waste of time."

May got up as well and said as she walked to the door with Coulson, "I told you so, Phil, but it's not like you listen to me very often."

Coulson approached Leo and Jemma and ruffled their hair, "Let's go home, chipmunks?"

"Can we eat something first?" Leo asked, tilting his head back to look at his father.

"Why don't we go to get your siblings and go out for lunch?" May suggested, glancing at Coulson to see his thoughts on the matter.

"I think it's a great idea," he replied, raising Leo over his head and setting him over his shoulder, making the way out of the doctor's office, "it's not every day we both get the chance to stay at home, and besides, it's weekend. We'll go for a barbeque and then a walk in park."

"And ice cream too?" Jemma asked, holding her mother's hand.

"Ice cream too," she assured with a smile.

* * *

**Leave a review, they are important.**

**(So far and already planned/written) upcoming chapters: Grant's backstory, Trip's backstory, one chapter that was prompt to me through review, Skye and Leo's backstories, and the one chapter in which Grant leaves the Scouts for a much more interesting hobby. So, according to my calculus that makes it... five new chapters coming up soon. **

**I still count on you to send me your ideas. **


	7. Bad boy gone bad

**Chapters now have titles. Wow, how innovative of me! xD**

**This is a bittersweet chapter, I must admit. I still hope you guys like it.**

* * *

Ever since the beginning of school year, Leo was, to Jeff Price and Victor Wallace (two fourth graders), Leopoldio, freak, nerd, or any other name except his own. Leo was the ideal target for bullies: shy, seemingly weak, scared, smart. They didn't even have to hit him; all they had to do was shout at him and steal his lunch.

Last week, the older boys had stepped on Leo's shoelaces as he walked into his classroom. Leo had fallen and had broken his arm. When the nurse had asked him how he had fallen, Leo was scared of Jeff and Victor. He said he had stepped on his own shoelaces. After having to lie that day, Leo decided he wasn't going to put up with the two bullies anymore. When he'd return to classes after the weekend, he'd scare Jeff and Victor so badly they wouldn't bully or nag him anymore.

* * *

Leo clutched the lunchbox's handle tighter in his hand and froze in the middle of the playground as his eyes met Jeff and Victor.

"Yo, Leopoldio," Jeff shouted upon seeing Leo.

He continued to make his way to the table and sat down, head lowered. Victor patted his shoulder strongly, causing the boy's small body to wobble. The two boys laughed.

"Didn't you hear me?" Jeff asked, tilting his head to try to look into Leo's eyes, but he looked away. "I was calling you."

"My name's Leopold," he mumbled, "You didn't call me."

"Ho ho," Jeff laughed, teasingly ruffling his hair, "you're getting braver? Come on, give me your lunch."

Leo smirked naughtily as he opened his lunchbox. He grabbed something; it looked like a small cylinder that perfectly fit in his hand. He stretched his closed fist at the two boys, closed his eyes tightly, and pressed the top button. He flinched and buried his head between his shoulders as a loud 'bang' echoed through the room, accompanied by a blinding light. The kids in the playground started running away, scared, and Jeff and Victor yelled, quickly switching between clamping their ears and rubbing their eyes. Leo got up from his seat and kicked both Jeff's and Victor's shins and they fell on their knees before him.

"Now quit bullying me!" he shouted, throwing his homemade stun grenade into the lunchbox and fleeing the scene.

Noticing the commotion in the playground, the janitor came to check on the kids and then quickly called the teachers. A few minutes later, all the kids were ordered to return to their classrooms, to have their lunchboxes and desks inspected. Leo, of course, had already gotten rid of the stun grenade but he was still taken to the director because Jeff and Victor whined to their teacher as they were taken to be examined in the infirmary. Mrs. Hughes, Leo's teacher, was calling Coulson and May to get to the school as quickly as possible when Leo was escorted to the principal's office.

He couldn't deny that the feeling of being conducted through the halls to the principal's office as the other kids watched was good. He was always being picked on and no one ever knew that he could fight back if he wanted to. As soon as he sat on the chair before the principal's desk, the man placed the stun grenade over the table for him to see it.

"Mr. Quinn," the principal referred to the janitor's name, "found it in the trash bin."

"You can't tell it's mine." Leo replied boastfully, leaning back in his chair.

"He saw you throwing it away."

Mrs. Hughes walked in quietly, sitting on the empty chair beside Leo. "Who gave you that thing, Leo?" She asked quietly.

"No one. I built it myself."

She breathed in sharply, taken aback by his answer. She knew he had the abilities for that and much more. "How did you build a stun grenade, Leo?"

"A stun grenade is easy to build. It is constructed with a casing made to remain intact during detonation and to contain most of its explosive force and avoid shrapnel injuries. Only the light and sound of the explosion are allowed out. The filler is made of a pyrotechnic metal-oxidant mix and an oxidizer. Everything is pretty easy to get, you just have to have skills and patience to build one."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," the teacher wailed, shocked, "You are such an exceptional student, Leo. So quiet, well behaved, you don't even fail a homework assignment. How could you do this?"

"Usually the quiet ones are the worst," the principal advised.

Leo's face crumpled up in a frown as he spoke angrily, but in a low tone of voice, "When a bully breaks your arm you have to take care of things on your own."

At this Mrs. Hughes turned to the boy, her face expression changing from shock to shame, for not having noticing it earlier, "Why didn't you tell me that Jeff and Victor were bullying you?"

Leo lowered his gaze again, mumbling, "It was not like anyone would believe that fourth graders bothered me. They just call me names and steal my lunch."

"I'm sorry that Jeff and Victor bullied you, Leo, but you should have told your teacher or your parents about it. People could have been hurt with this stun grenade," The principal reprimanded. "Things could have been damaged. Do you have any idea of -"

Leo interrupted the director to give him a long, scientific explanation, "The blinding flash of light momentarily activates all photoreceptor cells in the eye, making vision impossible for approximately five seconds, until the eye restores itself to its normal, unstimulated state. The loud blast of greater than 170 decibels is meant to cause temporary loss of hearing, and also disturbs the fluid in the ear, causing loss of balance. All of this without causing permanent injury. There was no harm that could have resulted from activating the grenade. Well," the boy shrugged and looked away as he admitted, "the concussive blast of the detonation can still injure, and the heat created can ignite flammable materials, but I paid attention to all possible variables that could have caused damage or harm and I avoided them."

The principal removed his glasses and tossed them over the desk, leaning back on his chair. He looked at the teacher, "Are his parents coming anytime soon?"

"Yes, Principal Reyes. Mrs. May said she'd get here soon."

The boy flinched in fear after hearing that his mother was coming. He wished it was Dad. He was easier to deal with than Mom. She'd gaze at him with stern, scary eyes and her face would be so expressionless he wouldn't be able to know how angry she was. Because she would be angry, that he knew for sure.

Leo heard the strong footsteps approaching the door and his heart climbed to his throat. He looked back at the door right before it opened, his breath leaving his lungs and apparently not too willing to return anytime soon.

"Mom -" he whined as he saw her.

May pointed a finger at him and he shushed immediately, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. The principal smirked wickedly as he saw the fear spreading across Leo's face. The teacher stood up, offering her seat to May.

"What did he do, Principal?" The man pointed at the stun grenade laying on the desk. May looked at Leo with empty eyes and asked the principal again, "Was anyone hurt or anything damaged?"

"The two kids that he attacked with the stun grenade are scared but alright. And nothing was damaged."

"Good," she then she broke eye contact with her son, "What's going to happen with him?"

"He'll be suspended, obviously. Next week, at the parents-teachers meeting, the executive council will relate the situation to all the parents, and if it is a unanimous decision, Leopold will have to be transferred."

"Would that be all, Principal Reyes?"

"On my part, yes. I don't know if Mrs. Hughes wishes to say something, or even if Leopold wants to say anything about this."

The teacher nodded her head and looked away, disappointed. Leo, on the other hand, got up from the chair and walked out the door. May followed right after him, closing the door behind her. The boy seemed desperate to walk as fast as his legs allowed. He'd already have to be confined in the car with his mother on the whole way home; if he could avoid talking to her at that moment, he would really appreciated it. Unfortunately, Leo's legs were too short and May walked in quick strides. She caught up with him rapidly and held his hand. Leo felt a chill going down his spine and for a moment there his legs failed him.

"Where did you get the grenade?" she asked.

"I made it," Leo responded, looking at the tiles of the floor as he reluctantly walked hand in hand with his mother.

"And what was the point of bringing it to school and targeting two other kids?"

"They won't leave me alone. I just meant to scare them."

May pulled on Leo's hand, making him stop. She looked down at him, "They hit you?"

"No. They just keep on calling me names and stealing my lunch every day."

"For how long has this been happening?"

"Since school started," he confessed.

The woman sighed and stooped down so that she was at his eye level, "And why didn't you say anything to me or your father?"

He shrugged, "I had to scare them. I had to lie last week and I know how much you hate that we lie, so I -"

"Wait, wait, you lied last week? About what?"

Leo looked away but his mother lightly tighten the grip on his wrist, forcing him to spill it out, "They stepped on my shoelaces when I was entering the classroom. That was how I broke my arm."

"Leo," she breathed, "You should have told us this. I find it really brave of you to defend yourself, but you should have told us. And you shouldn't have built a stun grenade to scare them. People could have gotten hurt."

"I wouldn't hurt anyone, Mom," the kid wailed, his eyes burning with unshed tears, "You know I wouldn't, right, Mom?" Tears dropped from his eyes and his lips pouted, "Mom, believe me. I knew I wouldn't hurt anyone. I just wanted to scare them."

May hugged him and told him firmly, "Quit crying, Leo. I believe you." As she pulled back, she affirmed, "But what you did was very bad. You know that, don't you?"

"What're you gonna do?"

"You and I will have to have a lengthy talk with your dad about this. Now," she ordered, "go get your things from the classroom."

Leo looked back and insisted, "What're you gonna do, Mom?"

She sighed, "The most likely consequence is that your father and I take away all your experiments, for the time being."

"No," he wailed, "don't do that, Mom."

"Go get your things, Leo," May said, firm in her decision.

* * *

Two days later, Coulson and May were called to the school again. This time it was about Grant, and this time both made it to the meeting with the principal. Grant had picked a fight (on purpose) with Jeff and Victor. The two kids ended up getting quite bruised. May and Coulson feared that everything they had accomplished with Grant had been thrown away, but he assured them he was simply looking after his little brother.

* * *

**Next chapter: one of the prompts you've sent me. I think I screwed the idea a bit, but it was the best I think I could do with it. It was a very good idea though.**


	8. Golden slumbers

**Here's a little more of Skye in this chapter. This idea was suggested to me by ****Salkri Kachemench. I'm sure I ruined the good idea I was given, but this was the best I could do with it. **

* * *

"Phil, can you come in here for a second?"

"Wait just a moment," he responded from downstairs. He was helping Leo to cut his steak as the boy was just stabbing it instead of actually cutting it into small pieces. Once he was done, he went upstairs, "What's the matter?" he asked as he walked in the bathroom.

May simply pointed at Skye. He saw her sitting on the bathtub with her hair full of shampoo and a plane toy sunk in the tub next to her.

"Is she -" the man began asking, taking a look at her face.

"Sleeping? Yes, she is," May confirmed. "I was washing her hair and she just fell asleep."

"Well, you can do special things with your fingers. When you give me a massage, I-"

"Does it look like I'm joking around?" May asked, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring her husband.

"I'm not joking around either. You should take it as a compliment."

"What I think is that we have to take her to a doctor."

Coulson sighed and adopted a serious posture, "This is not normal. The amount of time she sleeps, and the places she falls asleep at, aren't at all normal."

"Thank you for agreeing with me," May said sarcastically, "Would you look up the number of a sleep specialist while I awake her up and finish bathing her?"

"I will, but before I do," he said as he walked out the bathroom, "I'll just make sure Leo isn't still stabbing his steak anymore."

* * *

When Coulson talked to the receptionist to schedule an appointment for Skye, she was really enlightening. She told them to take the girl's latest physical exam and to bring a bag with her overnight clothes and her stuffed animal (if she had one) because, if the doctor suspected she had any sleep disorder, he'd like to run tests on her that night.

The doctor welcomed the three of them into his office, showed them to their seats, and took a seat behind his desk.

He presented his hand to Skye and was graced with a handshake, "What's your name?"

"I'm Skye. Daddy calls me energetic monkey."

"I'm Martin," he introduced himself with a smile, "My Dad used to call me Scooby-Doo."

Skye giggled. Doctor Martin was probably one of the best doctors Coulson and May had ever been to. Even though he a sleep specialist, he was amazing with children (easily explained by a photo on his desk of himself, his wife and five children). Skye loved him immediately which was impressive since she hated all doctors, even the pediatrician who always offered her a lollipop.

"But do tell me," the doctor turned to Coulson and May, "what seems to be the problem with your little girl?"

May began explaining, "She's always tired and sleepy. It's a struggle to get her out of bed, and then she falls asleep at the strangest times and places. Last night she fell asleep in the bathtub. I don't think that's normal."

"It certainly is not. How would you describe her sleep time? Constant, irregular?"

"I think 'too much' is a good description," Coulson admitted, "Skye's a sleepyhead. The kindergarten teacher tells us that she disappears to the room where the younger kids are and joins them for nap time. We've asked her not to let her take afternoon naps because next year she'll be going to elementary school and she won't be able to take naps in the midafternoon, but apparently she goes into the room anyways."

The doctor took in the explanations and said, "It seems like your energetic monkey has narcolepsy. I'd like to ask you something. It might seem strange, but it's crucial. Skye, can you stand up, please?" The girl climbed down from her mother's lap as ordered and the doctor turned to her parents again, "I'd like you to make her laugh. Make her laugh as hysterically as you can."

May smirked and glanced at her husband, "This is up to you."

Coulson tilted his neck to the left, then to right, loosening his arm muscles and breathing in deeply. "I'm sorry Skye, but Daddy is going to undergo a very strange transformation."

"No," Skye wheezed, mid-laugh, "not the tickle monster."

He only walked closer to her, wiggling his fingers and Skye was already hysterical. Doctor Martin looked at May and confided, "You're husband is good at it."

"He's child himself," she smiled but quickly changed her posture when Skye wobbled.

"It's alright, it's alright," The doctor rapidly assured, patting the chair for Skye to sit again, "I wanted it to happen."

"I got weak on my knees," Skye said with a big grin and unsteady breathing, climbing up to the chair again.

"You sure did. That's called cataplexy and it is very common. When narcoleptic people are overwhelmed by a stress or a strong emotion, they very suddenly, and also very briefly, lose control of their muscles and wobble. Some people lose their balance and collapse on the floor."

"Thanks goodness I didn't," Skye chirped and it caused the doctor to smile because of her word choice, "the floor looks hard."

"It sure is. Thank goodness you didn't collapse. Now tell me something," he crouched next to her chair, "when you wake up, do you feel like you can't talk or move your body?"

Skye nodded her head, "Yeah. It's scary sometimes. What if a monster comes to attack me? I can't defend myself if I can't move or scream."

And with that she had just confirmed two of his theories: Skye suffered of sleep paralysis and hypnagogic hallucinations, which were also very common.

"That's very scary indeed." The doctor put in, "I think you should get a stuffed animal to protect you, or do you have one already?"

"I have a teddy bear, Marshmallow."

"Perfect. Teddy bears are the best at protecting children from scary monsters. Did you bring him with you today?"

"Oopsie," she grinned, "I forgot him in the waiting room."

Martin smiled and lightly pinched her cheek, "Why don't you go and get Marshmallow? I think he's feeling lonely out there."

Skye nodded her head and walked to the waiting room to pick up her stuffed animal.

The doctor carried on with questions more aimed at her parents, "Do you feel that Skye has memory loss, lack of concentration, low motivation, sluggishness? Does she have difficulty keeping up with friends, siblings, or even difficulty completing menial tasks?"

Coulson and May looked at each other; he ended up answering, "I think it's safe to say she has a bit of all of those. We used to think she was simply lazy and uninterested."

"That's perfectly normal, don't feel bad about it. Diagnosing children as young as Skye is always hard, and it is perfectly understandable that people make more linear judgments. It's much easier to conceive the idea that a child is lazy than to immediately jump to the possibility of a narcoleptic disorder."

"So can we, right now, strongly assume that Skye is narcoleptic?" May questioned.

"I'd say I'm 80% sure she suffers from narcolepsy. I'd like to run the two exams I've briefly told you about earlier. I'll get into detail later, don't worry. Now, since you told me earlier she's not your biological daughter, we'll rule out the medical history exams, and since you've brought me her latest physical exam I'd say I have everything I need to skip to the actual tests."

"I got Marshmallow," Skye said as she walked in the room again.

"Good. And you arrived just at the right time. I'll explain to you and your Mom and Dad what exams you'll have to do here, alright?" Skye returned to her seat to listen to the doctor, "Tonight, you'll have to sleep here at our laboratory. Don't worry, one of your parents will stay here with you. And you have Marshmallow too. My nurses will glue some funny things in your forehead called electrodes and we'll know what's happening inside your brain. All you have to do is sleep. The wires are a bit uncomfortable, but I'm sure you'll do great. We'll do an exam called polysomnogram, big word, I know. Then tomorrow we'll do another test. That one is called the multiple sleep latency test. You'll take five naps during the day and then we'll let you go home."

"Cool. I love to take naps."

"I'm sure you do." Doctor Martin walked to the door and opened it, pointing at the nurse at the end of the hall, "See that woman over there? That's Nurse Piper. Could you go with her to get you ready? You know, you have to dress your jammies, get comfortable in bed. Your parents and I will join you in a while, alright?"

Skye nodded and walked to nurse Piper as the doctor asked her to.

"I'll stay with her tonight," Coulson said to his wife, "I'll spend the day here with her so you don't have to miss work." Looking at the doctor once he closed the door, Coulson asked, "If Skye really suffers from narcolepsy, what advice can you give us?"

"I won't prescribe medication. Maybe when she's older she might need it, but not now," Doctor Martin affirmed, sitting at his chair. "But you shouldn't let her drink coffee, tea, cola, or even some non-cola pops, energy drinks, or eat chocolate in the late afternoon. Once I present to you my final diagnosis, I'll help you sketch a strict sleeping schedule, which might include afternoon naps too. You can already warn family members and teachers, whoever she has close contact with about her disorder, just to give them a heads-up. And of course, the most important: have Skye start exercising regularly and decrease repetitive or boring tasks. If you don't do that, it will ruin her sleeping schedule and directly affect yours. She needs to be exhausted by bedtime."

Coulson and May nodded and then they walked with Doctor Martin to the room where Skye was. May bid her farewells and left the girl with Coulson. Once May was home, all the kids were sleeping. She only had to greatly thank Mimi for having looked after them and then slipped into bed. She didn't really sleep much as she and Coulson were talking to each other almost every hour because of Skye.

* * *

The results of Skye's exams were revealed two days later. She did indeed have narcolepsy. Coulson explained to the other kids what being narcoleptic meant. Maybe he should have left the explanations to May. Saying that narcolepsy means that people like to sleep wasn't the best explanation because in the following morning all the kids had self-diagnosed themselves as narcoleptic.

* * *

**So, I've been counting the upcoming chapters and ordering them and all that, and I really hope you can endure me at least until chapter 20, because that's how many chapters I have planned... Anyways, next chapter is going to be Grant's backstory. **

**Leave me your reviews and your ideas. **


	9. Doubt it

**So, here it is, Grant's backstory. Hope you guys enjoy it.**

* * *

May heard a few quiet laughs as she glanced up at her children playing All Fours in the living room. Grant had chosen Jemma as his partner, Skye and Trip were another pair and that left Leo and Lance to be a team. What made May smirk were everyone's comments towards Lance: 'Got something in your eye? You can't stop blinking', 'Your nose is hella itchy', 'You're kicking the wrong leg', 'You have a suit, don't you?'. It was inevitable, Lance was terrible at lying and faking and so far he and Leo had scored no points at all.

Leo tossed the cards on the floor, "Let's play something else. Lance sucks at this."

"Alright, let's play Go Fish," Trip said, gathering up the cards, "It's best for Skye too."

"I can play," she grumbled.

"And better than Lance," Grant piped up.

The sibling rivalry between Lance and Grant was evident; the two of them were always disagreeing unless the matter was pranks and teasing their other siblings. Other than that, the two of them were always scuffling. Luckily they'd make up as quickly as they'd wrestle. Coulson took a seat next to his wife as she signed a pile of reports. He had a smile on his face as they watched Grant being tortured by Lance. The younger boy was lying face up on the wooden floor, stomping his feet between giggles as his brother straddled him and tickled him, which was Grant's weakness.

"Oh, c'mon," Grant gasped and giggled, his face getting redder with each wheeze. "Stop it." he hysterically laughed again, "St-stop, Lance. I'm-I'm tick-ticklish. Stop!"

"Alright," Lance gave up, getting off top of his brother, "you've suffered enough for messing with me."

Grant remained lying down on the floor, both hands clutching his stomach as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

"Do you remember how Grant was when we adopted him?" Coulson quietly asked, looking back at his wife.

May sighed and smiled ever so slightly, "We've walked down a long, hard road."

* * *

_Traumatized, emotionally detached, violent, unsociable_. Dr. Maggie Morris, psychologist, only needed five words to describe Grant Ward when she first met him on an appointment when he was six years old.

It took her a year and a half of therapy to heal a broken little boy, but Dr. Maggie warned his parents that Grant would never be a normal child because part of his boyhood had been taken away prematurely. Coulson and May were very well aware of that when they first adopted him. Grant, unlike his siblings (with the exception of Lance), was adopted because he was chosen to be adopted, not because SHIELD called in for a favor from Coulson and May. After Grant's adoption, the two of them started having a different view of their children: they no longer saw them as only assignments; they fully accepted them as their children also.

One old acquaintance of May, knowing that she and Coulson had adopted two children, came up to her. Grant was all over the local news due to the horrible conditions in which he was found. The man knew no one would want to adopt him, and he thought that maybe Melinda and Phil would want to give it a shot. The couple wasn't sure if they'd accept the boy, but upon looking at his photos, it twisted their stomachs. Grant was full of bruises all over his body, he was thin and his eyes mirrored sadness and fear, nothing else. Grant had been found tied up to the house's radiator after his parents were taken into custody. Grant's older brother, Christian, reported them to the cops after being mercilessly beaten.

The child protective services thought of putting both boys together for adoption. They quickly gave up on the idea when Grant saw his brother and yelled, running away from him. It turned out Christian had bullied Grant too. The two were taken to different places, miles away from each other, and both were undergoing therapy. May and Coulson were bothered with Grant's case. It didn't make sense for them why those parents had children only to mistreat them. It filled them with anger towards the parents and sorrow for the boy. However, they were not going to adopt Grant to do a favor to May's acquaintance, and they certainly wouldn't adopt the kid out of any feelings of pity. The two of them felt he needed a home and they wanted their house to be Grant's home. When the couple met him at the orphanage where he was placed, their conversation wasn't extensive, as they expected.

Grant only had question, "I'll never see my parents or my brother?"

"No," Coulson said as he stooped down, "never again."

"Then take me to your home."

The first night Grant spent at the Coulson's was only the beginning of a year and a half of trouble. Grant was very much grateful for having a bed and a blanket, and no one that hurt him, but he was terribly scared of falling asleep. He had always had that fear (a very rational fear though); if he slept he wouldn't be awake and alert. At his old house, nights were the worst. That was when, for some reason that he failed to understand, he was beaten. Trip was merely turning in bed, sleeping, but Grant was scared that the sleeping figure in the other bed would get up to hurt him. So, he anticipated anything and jumped off bed. He grabbed the first thing he saw, turned out to be a toy car. He smacked Trip with it in the head and obviously the ten year old woke up with a scream.

Coulson and May weren't sleeping either so they got of bed as fast as bullets. When they got to the boys' bedroom, Grant was already running out the door and Trip was holding to his brow that dripped blood. Coulson tended to the boy, guiding him to the bathroom to treat the cut and May walked after Grant. Jemma also awoke up, startled, and it was up to Coulson to calm her down and try to get her to bed. Grant hid inside the cupboards in the kitchen. May told him she wasn't going to hurt him, she just wanted him out of there. It was no use telling him that. Grant just cried, tears running down his face and dripping off his chin, sobs racking his small frame.

At some point May sat down on the kitchen floor, waiting for him to come out. He had been crying for half an hour non-stop by then. Coulson showed up in the kitchen but May told him to go away. He had never seen such sadness and determination on his wife's face. Five hours went on and she hadn't given up. She kept on telling Grant she wouldn't hurt him, or even reprimand him. She just wanted him to crawl out of there. Eventually Grant's stomach growled with hunger (as he had chosen to stir the food around in the plate earlier at dinner) and May put on the floor, right before the counter's door, a plate with chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk. The boy's hand slowly snuck out to steal a cookie, and then his head peeked out. Soon enough he was sitting on the tiled floor devouring the cookies.

"What are you afraid of, Grant?" May asked him.

He looked down and quietly whimpered, "I'm scared of falling asleep. That's-that's when my parents hit-hit me-"

"This isn't your old house. We won't hurt you, Grant."

Without a warning he crawled into her lap and fit his small body frame in her arms. His fingers knotted in the material of her T-shirt, not wanting to let go of her for a second as he cried harder. May rubbed slow circles on his back in an effort to ease the noisy sobs, the never-ending tears and his quiet mumbles in which he vehemently believed: 'I'm a bad. I'm a monster.' he repeated over and over again. After making sure Jemma and Trip were sleeping soundly, Coulson went to check on his wife and son again. He found Grant quietly sobbing, almost sleeping, and his wife with eyes closed, lullabying and smoothly rocking the boy.

"_There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy. They say he wandered very far, very far, over land and sea. A little shy, and sad of eye, but very wise was he. And then one day, a magic day he passed my way, and while we talked of many things, fools and kings, this he said to me: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._"

Coulson sighed as he saw them and May opened her eyes. He knelt on the floor next to them and pressed a kiss on the boy's hair and then another on his wife's forehead. It was in moments like that that Coulson had the certainty that she was stronger than he could ever be; he wasn't sure he could have handled Grant the way she did.

For two whole months Coulson felt useless. Grant went to appointments with a psychologist and every time he wanted anything he went to his mother. He didn't even say a word to his father. May felt pity for her husband whenever she saw him trying to play with Grant and seeing that the boy wasn't even willing to talk to him. But Coulson never gave up and his perseverance paid off. One day, after an appointment, Grant walked to his father and offered him one of his soldier men.

"Play with me, dad."

Coulson felt like his floor had been swept away suddenly. He was overwhelmed but took the toy and played with him. After that day, the display of soldier men grew, lining up on the window sill of the boys' bedroom. Grant trusted the inanimate toys to keep him safe, and his father bought him as many as he wished, so that he'd feel safe.

Although Coulson and May did an extraordinary work in helping Grant through his problems, it was Jemma and Trip that deserved all the compliments. The little girl always had a smile to offer her older brother and the older boy was patient and forgiving, amazingly forgiving for a ten-year-old. Even though Grant had hurt him and barely talked to him, and even if he had all the reasons in the world to hate him, Trip waited for Grant to trust him.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later (after Trip and Skye won two rounds in a row of Go Fish and the others accused them of cheating) the kids changed the card game they were playing again. This time they were playing Bullshit and now Lance wasn't the only who was lousy at lying. Jemma was also terrible at it. She could barely hold the playing cards in her hand as she held almost the entire stack.

Grabbing a handful of them – about ten or fifteen – she put them on the center and said, "Three Jacks, four sixes, three sevens and one Ace."

Grant squinted and took a look at the cards he held; he had two sevens, there was no way Jemma could have three of them. "I doubt it," he said.

Jemma sighed and grabbed the stack of cards that was in the middle, knowing she had been caught lying again. Leo started laughing so hard that he fell on his back but continued laughing. Trip smiled and draped his arm around Jemma, cuddling her.

"You need to be a better liar, Jem."

"I don't want to be like Lance, thank you."

This time it was Grant who laughed loudly as Lance had a surprised expression on his face and couldn't even say anything in his defense.

Skye grinned, picked up all the cards and held them against her chest as she happily hoorayed, "I win!"

"That's not how - nevermind," Trip gave up on trying to explain her that the objective was to have no cards at all.

Coulson left the office room and met his laughing children in the living room, "Can Mom and Dad join you for-"

"No!" the six answered immediately.

"Do you remember when we played poker, Dad?" Jemma subtly reminded.

Everyone could still remember vividly the day the whole family played poker...

* * *

**Two words about the next chapter: Mother's logic... Every mother has her own set of unique logic; May's no ordinary mother. :)**


	10. Mother knows best

**This chapter is because mom's logic is hard break. I'm pretty sure you've read about these 'teachings' somewhere else; I took some and wrote this chapter.**

**Oh, and the poll is now closed. The results are in my profile, go check them; soon enough you'll get a chapter with the most voted character.**

* * *

Mothers are extraordinary women who are gifted with an extra amount of love and patience. They also excel at logic and life lessons. Melinda May was no exception. Even though she wasn't the biological mother of any of her children, it didn't invalidate the fact that she was a mother. Usually May would use her life lessons and logic when Coulson was on missions abroad and she was alone with the kids.

* * *

May taught her oldest girl (even though she was skeptical) to be religious.

The woman's eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she saw the state of Jemma and the kitchen. The girl was covered from head to toe in a red sticky substance that May preferred not to identify. Part of what was supposed to be Jemma's science project was destroyed; the rest was still sitting on the kitchen table and the walls were covered in the same pasty stuff that covered the girl.

"Jemma," May's voice roared, "you better pray that it will come off of the walls." Before leaving the kitchen, she said over her shoulder, "When I get back here, the kitchen better be spotless."

The girl's face filled with fear. She put her hands together under her chin and started very quietly, "Dear baby Jesus, Buddha, uh, SpongeBob -"

"Damn, what happened in here?" Trip asked with a frown as he walked in, stopping to contemplate the pretty large mess covering the walls. He gave up trying to find an apple to eat and instead focused on Jemma. "And what are you doing?"

"I'm praying!"

Trip's frown creased even more, "To Buddha, Jesus and SpongeBob?"

"Mom's pretty mad. There's no time to be picky!"

"Didn't you say you're an atheist?"

"I know my loyalties are with science and reasonable thinking, but this time I need something greater to help me."

"How about getting a mop and a wet cloth?" The boy told her, "That should help a lot more than asking for SpongeBob's assistance."

* * *

May taught her kids about the importance of being nice to others.

"Would you shut up, Grant?" Lance yelled, "I didn't cheat!"

"No, of course not," the other complained, "You just had the settings on and your shot error was 15%."

"I honestly didn't know the settings were on. I did set them correctly once I noticed it, didn't I?

"Alright, but we're starting again."

Lance's accent had never ever sounded more British as it did when he said, "No we're not."

"Yes we are! That's unfair."

"No, we're not starting over."

The two kept taking turns repeating 'yes' and 'no' fifteen times in a row. May got so tired of hearing their accusations and their tone of voice climbing up in volume that she showed up in the living room and confiscated both game controllers.

"Now, if you're going to kill each other, do it outside. Please think of how much work I'd have to do because of you two; blood stains are hard to remove."

* * *

May taught one of her sons that a mother's logic isn't to be discussed.

"Hey, mom," Grant crooned, taking a seat on the couch by her side, "do you think I can participate in the boxing compe -"

"No," she simply replied, not tearing her gaze away from the book she was reading.

Grant had quit the Scouts Boys because the only reason he had joined them in the first place was to learn survival tips, and as he told his parents, he had learned them all. However, he already had a new idea in his mind when he told his parents that scouts weren't for him. He wanted to learn boxing. May was pleased with the idea; Coulson was worried. It was no lie that Grant still held a grudge against his birth parents and his blood brother. May wanted him to get rid of all of it by punching a bag; Coulson feared that boxing could make him violent. Luckily he was a good student at the downtown's academy, and so far hadn't displayed violent behavior. Of course he'd use Lance as his guinea pig to practice at home, but Grant and Lance's scuffles were older than dirt.

"I didn't even finish tal -"

"Still no."

Grant threw his head back and sighed soundly, raising his arms in the air. "Why can't I go?"

"Because I said so, that's why."

"Wow, really?" he mumbled, incredulous, "You're going with _that_?"

"Yes, I'm going with _that_."

"Ugh," Grant grumbled, getting up, "Mom's logic is stupid."

"Spend a weekend with your grandmother and you'll see how weird a mother's logic really is," May said under her breath when Grant was already out in the backyard.

* * *

May taught her youngest child about behavior modification.

Doctor Martin had recommended Skye to do an activity that tired her, so it'd help her with the narcolepsy disorder. Skye picked roller hockey without hesitation. She was a bit too young to be part of the team, but the coach took her in anyways. Coulson was overly worried about his little six-year-old girl in oversized equipment, playing in a team of ten-year-old boys who were already advanced hockey players. The fact that Skye overheard her dad confessing to her mom that he feared for her safety only caused Skye to feel insecure. And that was something astonishing since Skye was the freest and most confident person that lived in that house.

"I don't wanna go to hockey again," she whined.

"You slipped and bumped your head," May said, holding a bag of ice against her forehead, "no need to be so whiny about it. I've told you to practice skating more."

"I'm practicing," Skye said, not looking at her mother because she knew she was telling a big lie.

"You're really bad at lying," the woman claimed, "The roller skates are under your bed every day until you pick them up to go to the trainings."

Skye pouted, "But mom, it's hard and I get really tired." May rolled her eyes; that was the whole point of practicing sports, "I wanna quit."

"You're not quitting just because it got harder. You just have to keep on trying. You have to practice skating so that you get better at it. You can ask your brothers to help you with it." As Skye tilted her head and sent her a helpless look, May sighed deeper, "And please stop acting like your father, will you? I'm not changing my mind no matter what you do."

"Ugh," she groaned, "at least I tried."

Skye held the bag of ice against her forehead, debating whether she'd practice skating again or not. About an hour later she was out in the street, being taught by Grant and Lance how to skate properly.

* * *

May taught her very smart son about logic – logic that surpassed Newton's gravity law.

Skye earned the nickname of 'energetic monkey' because she was one. Leo was simply called 'monkey' because he was always climbing up something, which was most of the time the tree in the backyard of the house. May always blamed Coulson for incentivizing the so-accident-prone-Leo to climb up the tree. He said it made the boy stronger. May strongly disagreed, believing it'd make the kid break another bone.

"If you fall down from that tree and break your neck, you're not going to get to eat the cookies I've made," May said, standing in the porch, watching Leo hanging on one of the strongest branches of the tree.

"Mom, I can't come down," he yelped.

As he looked down, it felt like the ground was coming towards him. Leo was feeling dizzy and his palms were getting sweaty.

"You've climbed it, didn't you? Now come down." The woman retorted, walking the distance between the porch and the tree.

Even though he was increasingly getting nervous, he didn't fail to provide a detailed explanation, "I'm very sure that gravity will be against me if I try to climb down. Judging by my placement and the forces involved, I'd hit the – ah!" he shrieked, ending up hanging on the tree branch like a sloth, upside down.

He looked down, panting, tightening his hold on the tree as he attempted to wrap his legs around the branch.

"Let go," May said with open arms, expecting any second for Leo's weight to fall on her arms.

"Gravity still works whether you're there or not."

"I'm here to catch you. Let go."

Leo dropped his legs, swinging them as he quietly whimpered. He hushed as he felt his mother's arm looping around his legs, sustaining his balance. Then he let go off his hands and May brought him down to the lawn safely. As soon as he hit the ground, he was already poised to run away.

"Not so fast," May pulled on the back of her son's shirt collar, stopping him, "what did we learn just now?"

"That gravity is a very strong force?" he said with a smirk.

"And what else?"

"That if I break my neck I don't get to eat your cookies?"

"That's a good boy," she let go of his shirt, "You better not climb up that tree again, Leo," May warned as he ran inside, his eyes set on the last two cookies that were left in the plate.

The very next day Leo was hanging upside down on the tree branch again.

* * *

May taught Grant about foresight.

"When was the last time you showered?" May asked, leaning into Grant, inhaling deeply.

"Uh, last night?" he said, "We all showered yesterday."

"No, I meant did you actually shower? You know, when did you use soap and shampoo and scrub the dirt off you?"

Grant turned to his mother, seemingly offended by her question, "I wash myself!"

"Clearly," May rolled her eyes, continuing, "Make sure you go take a real shower to get clean and smelling nice. In case you're in sick a doctor will leave you to die if you are dirty and smell bad."

"You think I'll need to see a doctor soon?"

"If you don't take shower you might."

Grant ran upstairs, stripping off his shirt on the way. He spent over twenty minutes washing himself but he did return smelling good and looking clean again.

* * *

May taught her youngest kids about osmosis (even if Leo knew what it was).

Leo twirled the pasta with his fork, but that was all he did. He had stuffed his stomach earlier with Oreos, even though his mother told him not to. He told her he was like cows: his stomach had four different compartments, so he could eat the cookies. May smirked and let him have as many Oreos he wanted, and then she wouldn't let him leave the table until he'd realized that he wasn't supposed to stuff his stomach so close to dinnertime.

Trip, Lance, Jemma and Grant had already finished dinner and were in the living room, watching TV. Lance had been the first to scarf down all of his dinner since football trainings made him so hungry he could eat the whole world and still wouldn't be satisfied. He walked into the kitchen, where Leo and Skye were still playing around with their dinner, and walked to the fridge.

After opening the door, he moaned, "Oh, bollocks, we're out of popsicles."

"Did you know that popsicles were invented by an eleven-year-old?" Leo commented, taking one unwilling bite of one of the noodles. "It's true," the boy insisted as Lance shot him a disbelieving look. "You can make popsicles at home."

"How?" Lance asked excited.

May breathed in slowly and pointed at Lance, "Go back to watching TV. And you," she turned to Leo, "shut your mouth and eat your dinner."

"I can't do both," Leo pointed out. "And that's called osmosis, it only happens in our cells."

"Alright," May said defeated by the genius, "Then how about you stuff your mouth with food and don't talk. Better?"

"I'm full," Leo whined.

"Of course you are. Now I hope you realize you don't have a compartmentalized stomach like cows."

"Can I leave the table?" he asked, tilting his head, trying to charm his mother with his cute look.

"Yes, you can."

"Can I leave too?" Skye spoke in the lowest voice anyone had heard her muster. She looked really upset to still be at the table.

May looked at the girl, "No. Not until half of that pasta is eaten."

* * *

May taught her oldest son about extra sensory perception.

May sat on the swing on the porch. She had a file resting on her lap and a pen in her hand as she wrote down a report. She had to move her work place outside since all the kids were playing out in the street with the neighbor's kids, Victoria, Abraham, and Franklin Thompson. She had to keep an eye on those nine kids since the Thompsons weren't even caring a bit as to what their kids were doing.

"Trip, put your sweater on," May shouted over the noise the kids made.

"I'm not cold."

"You don't you think I know when you are cold? Put it on."

"I'm sweating, mom," Trip noted.

"Exactly," May insisted, "You're sweating and the wind is rising. You'll get a cold pretty quickly. Put the damn shirt on."

Trip raised his arms in surrender and put on the shirt much to his mother's pleasure.

* * *

**I hope you liked this chapter. Leave a review tell me if you liked it, and leave me your suggestions.**

**Next chapter is based on something that was prompted to me.**


	11. CIA – Crowd of Immoral A-holes

**I had so much for with this prompt. This was suggested to me by joshua. perry****. 3705 and Girl-who-lived-in-FAIRYLAND. I kind of merged the two suggestions into one and came up with this chapter. Hope you guys like it.**

* * *

Staying home with Dad was one of the best things in the world. Mostly because Dad would fall asleep and they could do wanted they wanted - mischief included. This time was no different. May had left the office earlier to take Trip to a routine check-up at the doctor, and since Coulson didn't go to work, he stayed with the kids. Skye begged her dad to join her to watch cartoons, and half way through an episode, Coulson was already loudly snoring with his head resting on the back of the couch. Upon seeing their father sleeping, all the kids dispersed to their various activities.

Coulson woke up, startled, to the sound of something strange. He lifted his head and rubbed his face, which proved to be a mistake. Whipped cream was now smeared all over his face, which he realized had been on his hand. Lance's giggles were close and once Coulson looked at him, the kid didn't even try to hide the fact that he had poured a generous amount of whipped cream on his father's hand.

"You're not even trying to hide it, are you?" Coulson asked, fuming. "You're on time-out. Go face the wall."

Lance immediately pouted but did as he was ordered. As Coulson got up from the couch, something else caught his attention.

"Are these moths? Are moths flying around in this house?"

"Uh, no, no," Jemma lied, chasing after them.

"Do you want to try that again?" Jemma looked down, embarrassed, "Where are this moths coming from?"

"The larvae that were hidden under my bed in a box hatched."

"You better think of how bad it is to lie during your time-out," Coulson pointed the wall and added, "join your brother."

By this time, Coulson was certain nothing else could go wrong. He could already imagine that Leo was behind the electrical discharge that startled him awake. He really hoped that Grant and Skye were being good, because he really hated to put his kids on time-out. He was very wrong. On the way to the kitchen ( where he had seen Leo's curly head escaping a moment earlier) Coulson passed a mirror and saw his face, covered with black marker doodles. He had a moustache and a unibrow.

Grant was caught red-handed, still holding the marker pen. "Time-out?" the boy spoke first.

"What do you think? You won't be alone, though."

There was no sign of Skye anywhere, which was worrying. Coulson was now firm on the idea that he'd soon have five children lined up against the wall. But before focusing on the youngest, Coulson really wanted to find Leo, and he knew just where to find him. The genius boy was by the electrical panel with a screwdriver in his hands, two seconds away from being electrocuted. His heart climbed to his throat as he ran to grab the boy's hand.

"Drop it, Leo."

"I was going to fix it," Leo rushed to explain, "It shorted out while I was –"

"I don't even want to know. Right now I want you to go to the living room. I need to find Skye."

Coulson looked in every nook and cranny of the house, only to find Skye in the home office, playing on his computer. He was relieved to know she was the only one who didn't misbehave minute he fell asleep.

"Everybody, attention," Coulson demanded as he walked in the living room. All the kids stiffened and looked down, avoiding looking at their father, "I hope you understand what you did was all wrong. You should be ashamed; the youngest of this family was the only one who managed to behave better. I've told you I'm cool when you are play with me, and I'm fully on board with your experiments," he continued, looking at Jemma and Leo, "but this was unacceptable. You took advantage of my nap to cause chaos in this house, so you're all on time-out for the next twenty minutes. And just you wait until your mother comes home. She'll think of good punishments, especially created for each one of you."

"Not my PlayStation again," Lance whined quietly.

"If you don't want to have your PlayStation confiscated, don't misbehave. Now, come on, everybody faces the wall for the next twenty minutes."

While the kids complied with the imposed punishment in the living room, Coulson washed his face to get rid of Grant's doodles and the rest of the whipped cream. He finished with his face reddened from the excessive rubbing and, after fixing the electrical panel, he announced to his kids that their time-out was over. The house was suddenly quieter than before as the kids resumed their activities.

The doorbell rang. Coulson frowned and rushed to open it; he had no idea who it'd be at that time of the day. Two men in dark suits smiled grimly as he opened the door for them.

The smaller one began, showing him his badge, "Agent Hughes, this is my partner," he pointed with his head to the taller one, also showing his badge, "Agent Saldaña, we're CIA. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"About?"

The two agents looked at each other and Saldaña ended up answering, "Our database was hacked. We've traced the source back here."

"Well, in case you can't notice, I'm a bit too busy to hack the CIA database."

"As much as we sympathize with your problems, we're dealing with a matter of national security and we'd like to take a look around." Hughes affirmed.

"If this is a matter of national security then don't waste your time here."

Coulson was interrupted by the two agents walking in the house without invitation. They looked around until they found Skye at the computer.

"Hey there," Saldaña began, "what are you doing?"

Skye frowned and glanced around the room, searching for her father.

"Skye," Coulson spoke, "give us a second here, please?" Once Skye was out the room, the man resumed, "Do you honestly believe my six-year-old daughter hacked into your database?"

"It wouldn't be too abnormal to imagine," Hughes said, walking to the computer.

"You'd better have a warrant to take a look at my computer." Coulson warned, slamming down his laptop's screen, "If I wanted to hack the CIA database, I wouldn't even break a sweat doing it. Your security protocols are very primitive."

"So you suddenly became an expert in security protocols?" Saldaña sassed, his hand hovering over his handcuffs.

Coulson sighed and walked to the drawer, showing them his badge, "Now would you leave my house? I'm sure you don't want my boss to give your boss a call, do you?"

Saldaña pulled his partner to the corner and confided, "He's either playing us for the sake of one of his agency's missions, or he didn't do anything and we got the location wrong."

"And what if he did something and you're just being blinded by his shiny badge?"

"Have you seen how many kids he has? If I was a woman, I wouldn't even trust him to pull out. He didn't do it, I'm sure." The taller agent turned to face Coulson and said, "We're sorry for breaking in like this. We'll be on our way."

Hughes and Saldaña left through the front door as quickly as they entered. Coulson was surprised with their sudden change of heart, but didn't give it much of a thought. At the moment, he only wanted to find Skye.

"Did I do well?" she asked.

Coulson picked her up in arms and loudly smooched her cheek, "You did perfect. In a few weeks, let's try to hack the FBI's database."

* * *

Later that night when all the kids were sleeping, Coulson and May were folding clothes, trying to match socks with their pairs.

"Anything exciting happen at the office today?" Coulson asked.

"Not really," she said, throwing a sock at Coulson, "And around here? How was the day?"

He folded the matching pair socks of he had and handed the other one he was holding to his wife, "Skye hacked the CIA database. They paid us a little visit, but left really quickly."

"They're idiots, what to expect?" May snorted. "Next up you could help her with hacking the FBI."

"I've told her that. You know what we should get?" he asked, waiting for a sign from May to let him know she was paying attention, "A maid. Matching socks is hard."

"Keep on folding, Phil," she looked at him with a smirk, "I might reward you in a bit."

"Forget the maid, I can do this in ten minutes," he grinned.

May looked up at the lamp on the ceiling, "Is that a moth?"

"Oh crap," Coulson mumbled, recalling he had forgotten about the moths in the house.

* * *

**Next chapter: Jemma's back story. I know many of you are eager to read about it.**


	12. Jemma Simmons: The First Adopted

**I hope you guys enjoy Jemma's back story. :)**

* * *

_The rain poured down endlessly and turned the road into vast a lake of dull, muddy water. Dark grey clouds covered the sky. The windshield wipers were powerless in clearing the intense pouring rain. The sound of the raindrops blended with the occasional whoosh of the breeze. Everything was bleak, gray, and dreary - even the atmosphere; it seemed like darkness had swallowed the earth. Loud, deafening thunderclaps in the distance seemed to rip the sky in half._

_Jemma cried in her booster seat, dreading the sounds of the loud roaring thunderclaps and the continuous pouring rain._

_"Mummy," she bawled, looking at her mother who sat in the backseat next to her, "Jemma's scared."_

_"It's alright, sweetheart," the woman said soothingly, tapping her chest gently, "Daddy will get us home soon enough."_

_The woman's eyes turned to the storm ahead of them. She feared the rain, noticing that wipers couldn't clear the liquid and that her husband could barely see the road ahead of them. Perhaps they should have postponed Jemma's appointment with the pediatrician. They could have put off the excitement of learning that their thirteen-month-old baby girl was gifted with an intelligence that surpassed her age's average. But now they knew: Jemma was different from the other babies._

_What she now really wanted to know, though, was if they'd make home safe and sound._

* * *

The sky was heavy and grey, and so low that the world felt small and close. The air was thick and warm with the smell of the coming storm. Nothing had a shadow - there wasn't enough light. The wind rose, blowing harder and harder, in big gusts. Soon the rain began to fall, slowly at first, splattering the sidewalk haphazardly. Then it fell as if from buckets, cascading like a waterfall from the heavens. Jemma looked out the window, her forearms propped on the sill and her chin resting over them. Skye played out in the puddles as the rain poured, shrieking in delight as she jumped in the water and caught the drops in her open mouth. The first lightning bolt brightened the dark sky. Jemma flinched and clamped her ears.

She began whispering, "One, two, three, fo - " the rolling boom of the thunder reverberated overhead. Jemma cringed as the thunder sound went on for long seconds.

Coulson opened the door and soon the intense wind rolled in, blowing his hair back and splattering his face with cold raindrops.

"Skye!" he called out, trying to be heard over the blowing wind and pouring rain. "Skye, get back inside."

"Aww," the boys loudly whined as the TV blacked out suddenly.

The man helped Skye to enter the house against the strong wind and wrapped her in a fleece blanket. "You go upstairs and wait. Mom or I will give you dry clothes for you to change into."

"Trip, Lance," May called, rushing into the living room. "Come with me to the basement. I need help."

"Everything's locked up?" Coulson asked before his wife walked out the room.

"Yes," she replied, brushing her slightly wet hair off her face, "I'll just make sure we have everything ready in the basement. There's a tornado heading to the town."

Coulson wasn't able to process the information as Leo proudly said to him, "I've unplugged the TV."

His father ruffled his head, "Very good, Leo."

"Want me to unplug other things?"

"No, no," he spoke, looking around, "I've got that covered. Thank you. But you know, you could get the battery radio and tune in to the NWR broadcast." As Leo walked away, searching for the radio, Coulson turned his attention to the remaining boy, "Grant, can you call Mimi and make sure she's alright?"

Coulson and May valued Mimi a lot; she was a big help for them, and since she lived alone (she was divorced and her only son was in TDY) and they were at the moment facing a low category tornado to hit the town, they wanted to make sure the woman was alright.

"Crap," Coulson hissed, running upstairs, remembering he had forgotten a soaked wet Skye waiting for dry clothes.

"Jemma, get away from the window, please." May said as she returned at full speed from the basement.

"Mom," Leo showed up with the radio, "there's a tornado coming."

"I know, Leo. Go to the basement and stay there with Trip and Lance. You too, Grant," she spoke, looking at the other boy.

"Dad told me to call Mimi. She says she's a bit scared," Grant said, "we should get her to come here, right?"

May nodded her head, leading Grant to the stairs, "I'll go get her. Just go downstairs and take Jemma with you. And tell your Dad and Skye to get in the basement too," she ordered calmly.

She made her way out the door, fighting the strong wind that rose. As she saw low clouds brewing by the horizon line, she sped up her pace to the neighbor's house. The rain was still going strong and chilling her to the bone.

As Leo made his way to the second flight of the house, to inform his father about the coming tornado, Grant tried to take Jemma to the basement. She was frozen in fear, silently crying.

"Mom's out to get Mimi," Grant informed, looking back as he heard his father coming down the stairs.

"Ok. Now downstairs, please," Coulson said, quickly climbing down the stairs, carrying Skye in his arms. Upon reaching the last step, he put the girl down on her feet, "Come on, downstairs. You and Skye."

The two kids walked down to the basement, joining their siblings. Coulson crossed the distance to Jemma, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off her feet. He knew why Jemma was so terrified: she absolutely dreaded thunder.

* * *

_"Shh, don't fret baby girl," the man behind the wheel comforted. He stretched his hand back, patting on his daughter's knee as she cried in her booster seat, "we're going to be home soon."_

_As he turned his attention back to the road, he saw two bright lights coming closer and heard the loud sound of a honk. He had no time to react. The mother unfastened her seatbelt quickly and shielded her daughter's body with her own._

_When the paramedics made it to the scene they trampled through the small lake of muddy water. The rain washed away the blood from the couple's and the truck driver's bodies. Upon confirming none of them had pulse they turned their attention to the crying baby that they hadn't discovered yet. They found her trapped in the booster seat, bloodied but not hurt. Her mother's now dead body had sheltered her from any harm._

* * *

"It's alright, Jemma. As soon as Mom and Mimi get here, we'll go downstairs. You can't hear the thunder from down there."

She wiped her tears away with the palm of her hand, "I shouldn't be crying. Eight year olds aren't supposed to cry or be afraid of thunder."

Coulson giggled quietly, "Who said that?"

"Those people who write books: doctors, psychologists, scientists-"

"Jemma, it's ok to cry," he whispered, "Who said that those people are experts? That's the one thing I hate about us, humans," he confessed. "We love to label people. It doesn't matter if you're eight and you're scared of thunder. We're not all the same, and we're not supposed to be the same. It'd be pretty dull if we were all alike. Tell me," Coulson walked to the couch and sat with Jemma on his lap, "how many different people can we humans create?"

The girl thought for her second, sobbing every now and then, "In humans with 23 chromosomes there are over 8 million possible combinations of chromosomes, that from just one parent. So, any couple could have over 70 trillion different possible children, based just on the number of chromosomes, not considering the actual genes on those chromosomes."

"How much is even one trillion?" he frowned.

"It's a 1 followed by 9 zeroes."

"That's a huge number."

"Astronomers estimate there are about 100 trillion stars in the Milky Way alone."

"See? A couple can have almost as many different children as the stars of one galaxy. If one couple can-" he stopped talking for a moment upon seeing the bright light of another lightning bolt. He covered Jemma's ears as the thunder roared, "If one couple can have 70 trillion different children, imagine how many different individuals the 7 billion people of the world can create. We are all unique, we all behave differently, we all know different things. I was scared of thunder until I twelve; I didn't walk until I was almost two. According to those people who write books and label people, I'd be different, bad different. I turned out fine, didn't I?"

Jemma hugged her father instead of saying anything else.

"Do you know why thunder scared you so much?" he asked, getting a nod from Jemma, "You were little, barely one year old when your parents died, you know that. But you don't know that they died in a car accident. It was a rainy night, thunder ripped the sky in two, just like today. You are out of the ordinary, Jemma, and you remember the sound of the thunder. You're scared of them because of the accident."

She knew that her parents had died when she was little. However, she didn't know how it had happened, or that she had been with them when it happened. But Jemma didn't have time to react to the recent learned truth. May walked in, completely drenched, along with Mimi.

"We're going to get dry," May said, showing Mimi the way upstairs.

"What were you thinking of going out there with this weather?" Coulson asked, worried, walking to her with Jemma in his arms.

"It's just rain and thunder. I wouldn't die from it."

Jemma's lip pouted and she began crying at that comment.

"What's the matter, Jemma?" the woman asked, running her fingers through the girl's hair.

"I told about her parents' accident."

May glared him intensely, "Couldn't it wait? You thought this was a good moment to tell her about it?"

"It just sort of came out. I didn't plan it-"

"Stop fighting," Jemma begged, raising her hands.

As another rumble of thunder came crushing down, the girl covered her ears and hid her head in the crook of her dad's neck. Coulson and May exchanged a look; she walked upstairs, he made the way to the basement.

* * *

Mimi and the kids slept, in the basement, curled up in blankets. Only May and Coulson were awake. She was sitting on the floor, back rested against the hard wall, holding Jemma in her arms. The girl sniffled tearfully, her body still shaking with small sobs even though she was sleeping as well. Coulson was at the top of the stairs, listening to the the wind damaging their house. Eventually he gave up on listening to the howling wind. He sat on the floor, draped a blanket over his wife's and daughter's legs and put his arm around May, pulling her closer to his chest. She leant in, her eyes closing slowly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, causing her eyes to open, "I was really worried to find out that you went out there all alone."

"It's alright," she assured, "I'd react the same way if you did something like that."

"It just… it scares me, you know?" Coulson accommodated, resting his chin over May's head, "We put our lives on the line every day at work, and yet, this petty wind is what's keeping me worried."

"I know. It's the thought of dying at home, not in the line of duty… it's strange." May casted a glance at their sleeping children, "And to think I once wanted to walk away."

* * *

_"I swear to God, Phil, I can't do this." May yelled, rocking Jemma in her arms, "She doesn't shut up."_

_"To be honest I would cry too if you were holding me like that."_

_"Oh yeah?" she walked in quick strides to him and put the baby in his arms, "then do better. I'm done with this."_

_"Wa – wait! What do you mean you're done with this?"_

_"I'm done with all of it. We've had this child for two months now. Fury assured us it'd be temporary. And besides it's not like she shuts up with me," she shouted, trying her best not to cry as she looked at the baby in Coulson's arms, who was being slightly more quiet._

_"May!" he called as she stormed to their bedroom and started sorting through her clothes in the closet. "Melinda, please. What are you doing?"_

_She glanced back and stretched her arms. She'd give it a try one last time, "Give her to me. Give her to me, Phil," she insisted as Coulson seemed to be frozen by the door of the bedroom. "She cries again and I'm out that door."_

_Coulson swallowed dryly, walking with careful steps to her. He gently transferred the baby to his wife's arms, adjusting her arms to cuddle the girl better in her embrace._

_Jemma stirred and whimpered, "Shh, it's okay. It's okay," he reinforced, looking into May's eyes._

_"It's alright," Jemma hushed as May stroked her hair._

_"You can't put her to sleep. I can't feed her properly. We're not supposed to be gifted with every quality in the world. That's why it takes two people to have children."_

_"I'll put her in the crib," May mumbled quietly, walking out of the bedroom._

_She delayed in returning to their bedroom, but Coulson let her take her time to think. May returned long minutes later; Coulson was already lying down in bed, almost asleep. He moved in the bed when he felt her presence in the room and heard her picking up her clothes. She was putting them back in the closet. He smiled, relieved, until he saw her with her hands on her hips, head thrown back, carefully exhaling through her mouth. She acted quickly in wiping away the tears that rushed down her face._

_"It's alright, Mel," he said, getting out of bed quickly, pulling her into a hug._

_"I didn't mean it. I wouldn't leave."_

_"I know," he ran his hand through her hair, "I know. You know what do you need? Some sleep. You're tired and stressed."_

_May grabbed his hand and pulled him to bed with her. She fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her._

* * *

"You never told me what made you stay."

"You," May looked into her husband's eyes, "I stayed for you, our marriage, this family that we built. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said. She seemed ready to repeat the apology again, so he rushed to tell her, "You - we both apologized to each other in that night, seven years ago. In all these years we've never went to bed without making up."

"I was selfish," she insisted, "and you had nothing to be blamed for."

"It's alright. I was scared too. We had just been married and already had a child in our arms. We were what, late twenty years old? What did we really know about anything back then?"

"It takes two people to have children," she whispered, "I'm glad we've learned that."

* * *

**Next chapter is one of my favorites. It has many references to people and situations in the MCU. And Trip finally gets a friend that is about his age. His name is S** W*****. Let's see if someone can crack Trip's friend's name before reading the chapter.**


	13. Baby Mutant Kitten Ninjas

**So, apparently it was really easy for all of you to guess that Sam Wilson is Trip's new friend.**

**A little note about Sam's family: his parents are indeed Paul and Darlene, and Paul is a Minister. It's also mentioned in the comics that Sam has two siblings, Sarah and Gideon. There's not indication about Sam or his siblings ages, so I took approximated guesses: Sam is 14, Sarah is about 10 and Gideon is about 4.**

* * *

"Mom," Skye crooned, finding May in the kitchen, standing among various pots and pans, "what do kittens eat?"

"Why?" she asked, leaving the knife on the counter and looking at the little girl.

She shrugged, "Just curious."

"Where are they?"

Skye promptly defended herself, "It's Jemma's fault. She found them."

"Where are they?" May insisted.

"In a box, in the porch. We just brought them home."

May walked to the porch, closely followed by Skye. She found her children leaning over a cardboard box. There were four small kittens there, meowing nonstop, wet and hungry. They were all different. One of them had orange and white stripes all over his body, and his remaining three little brothers were all solids colors: one was light brown, another yellowish-beige and the last one was all orange, although the tips of his feet were white, and the fur that went from his mouth to his belly was white as well.

"Take them to the bathroom," May said, realizing she didn't really have a choice, "I'll go check on dinner and meet you there soon."

On the way upstairs, May phoned Coulson, "Are you close to home already?"

"Uhm, it'll still take me a bit. Why?"

"Stop by a pet store. Buy four collars, ones with bells, and a small baby bottle. Your kids found four kittens."

"_My_ kids? How come they're only my kids when they misbehave?"

May didn't answer him and simply hung up the phone. Coulson smiled and shook his head, adjusting his route to find a pet shop. At home, his wife was bathing cats in the bathtub, thinking of the unimaginable things her children made her do. If she was told several years back that, one day in the future, she'd be married, with six children, and would be bathing cats to please her children, she wouldn't believe it. But she liked it, even though she didn't say it out loud.

When Coulson got home with a small baby bottle and four differently colored collars, he found it strange that none of his kids were greeting him. That was because they were around the small – and now clean and dried – creatures and didn't even pay attention to him when he walked in.

"You bought what I asked you to buy?" May asked, meeting him in the entrance hall.

"Yes," he told her, handing her the plastic bag while he took off his jacket.

The kids helped their parents put the collars on the small cats, while they all quietly chatted, trying to agree on names for the kittens.

"Don't give them names," Coulson warned, "It'll be harder for you when we give them up."

"What?" Jemma and Skye asked at the same time.

May frowned, "You thought we were going to keep four cats? There're already six of you in this house, and that's enough work."

The kids didn't care about their parent's warning, and named the kittens anyways: Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael and Leonard.

It was hard to get them all to bed because they didn't want to part ways with the kittens. Especially Skye and Jemma, who feared that by the next morning, they wouldn't be there anymore. The kittens weren't gone in the following morning, but by then Coulson had already prepared flyers to put around the neighborhood.

* * *

In two weeks, Coulson and May had given Michelangelo and Leonard away. One girl from their oldest kid's school, Darcy, took Mikey home. Leo – the kitten – was taken by twin kids, Pietro and Wanda, from a nearby neighborhood. They also managed to get rid of another cat – Ralph – by offering it to the Thompson's kids. And so they were down to one cat to give away, and so far no one else seemed to be interested in having a kitten. Until someone knocked on their door.

"Good afternoon," the man affably greeted, "we're here because of the flyer about the kittens."

"Oh, yes," Coulson said, casting a quick glance at the family, "come on in."

Noticing that there was no car parked in front of his house, Coulson concluded they were from nearby; they might even be the new neighbors everyone was talking about. The man had three children, two boys and a girl who was the middle child. She appeared to be about nine or ten years old; the youngest was about four or five years old, and the oldest boy was a tween or maybe an early teenager. The little boy was still holding his father's hand; the girl walked in comfortably, looking around, and the older boy was listening to music, quite loudly.

"I'm sorry to tell you but we only have this one kitten left," Coulson told the kids, pointing to the chocolate colored cat, "we've given the others away."

"It's ok," the girl said, walking to pick it up, "I like him. He's cute."

"Kitty," the little boy babbled excitedly, letting go of his father's hand and walking to the kitten too.

Coulson warned, "You might not want to approach him so quickly. He's a bit skittish. Jemma," he called, "Donny's under the couch. Can you come to get him?"

"No," Jemma answered from her bedroom, "You're giving him away, so I'm not getting him from under the couch."

Since his daughter wasn't coming to get the cat, Coulson knew that he would have to do it. After a few growls and hisses from the cat, he got it from under the couch and gave it to the children.

"There you have him. My kids named him Donatello, but it's not like he goes by the name anyways."

"You guys like him?" the man asked his children. He got two enthusiastic nods, and then turned to Coulson, "I'm so sorry, I didn't even introduce myself. Paul Wilson."

Coulson shook Paul's hand, "Nice to meet you. I'm Phil Coulson. Pardon me for asking, but are you the new neighbor that everyone's talking about?"

Paul smiled, "Yes, we're the newcomers. Me, Darlene and the children moved in not even a week ago." He pointed at his two youngest kids, saying, "Those are Sarah and Gideon. And that's my oldest, S-" as he turned, he no longer found his son and saw the front door open. "I guess he went outside."

"It's alright. My oldest is outside too. They are about the same age. I'm sure they'll get along."

Casually, the two men walked outside, chatting. Sarah and Gideon were out in the garden too, playing with their new cat.

"Your wife stayed at home?"

"Yes. She was unpacking some things. The kids insisted in getting a pet, and moving can be rough, so we thought why not give them a pet. But since I told the kids it'd be ok to get a cat, she made me come," Paul laughed quietly.

"Wives, I know how it is," Coulson chuckled too. "They say you are going to be the new minister," Coulson subtly added.

"I am, yes. I'll be presented to the community at this weekend's Mass."

"We'll try to be there, but we're not very religious people to begin with. It's not we're atheists though, but -"

Paul interrupted him, "It's perfectly fine. Come if you wish, if not I understand."

"No, we'll be there. At least for your presentation to the community."

The two men continued to talk, about their families and jobs, and everyday things. They were just simply getting to know each other. Paul's oldest child was still listening to his music, walking around the garden. Trip was playing baseball by himself, throwing the ball at the fence and catching it, repeating the exercise over and over again. He saw the boy walking around, swinging his head to the song he was listening.

"Wanna play?" Trip asked.

The boy didn't hear him; the volume of the music in his earphones was too loud and he was too enthralled by it to even notice the boy trying to talk to him. But Trip didn't give up. He threw the ball at him. It fell by the boy's feet, and he bent to pick it up. Trip gestured him to throw it back at him.

"Want to play?" he insisted.

"Uh, sorry?" the boy asked, taking off the earphones.

Trip smiled, "I asked you if you want to play."

"Yeah, sure."

"You're the new neighbors that are moving in down the street?"

"Yeah. And we are taking home your last cat. I hope you don't feel angry if in a few days you hear that it's dead. My brother Gideon thinks the cat is a toy."

Trip snickered, "I won't hold any grudge. My sisters might; they didn't want to give away any of the cats."

The two threw the ball around for a while until Trip found the courage to ask, "What were you listening to? It was awfully loud."

"But it is awfully good," the boy crossed the distance between the two, offered Trip the earphones and pressed play on his music player. "Marvin Gaye, 1972, Trouble Man soundtrack. Everything you need to listen jammed into one album."

"It's funky and very blues-y." Trip commented, a little bit too loudly because he couldn't hear his own voice. "I like this."

The other boy snickered, "Yeah, I can tell."

Trip took off the earphones and gave them back to their owner. He stretched out his hand and introduced himself, "I'm Antoine Triplett. Go by Trip. I bring the noise and the funk wherever I go."

"Sam Wilson," the other shaking his hand, "I mostly bring the noise. And the fun. And a bit of funk too," Sam chuckled.

"So, you haven't got your bearings of the neighborhood yet?"

"No, not yet," Sam affirmed, "My mother's a bit overly cautious every time I tell her I want to explore the neighborhood. She says it's still too early and that we should meet the neighbors as a family."

"Well, since you're taking our last cat, we're gonna have to take down the flyers. I'll tell my Dad I'll do that now, and if you want to come, I can show you around, tell you about the folks you should and shouldn't meet."

"I'm here with my dad, and he's cool, so I'm sure I can go. And if you don't mind me tagging along with you, I even promise to help you take down some flyers."

Trip smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, "Come on, then." As he met Coulson and Paul, he turned to his father, "I'm going to take down the flyers. I told Sam I'd show him around if he'd like to come along," Trip looked at Sam's father, "if you're ok with it."

"I already know the way back home," Sam claimed. "Can I go?"

"Sure. I'll handle your mother," Paul grinned at his son and then gave Trip's shoulder a slight squeeze, "Thank you," he sincerely said, "Sam's new around and he needs a friend."

"I need a friend my age too, sir."

Coulson had to agree; the only friends that Trip had that were his age were his schoolmates, and none of them lived nearby.

"Don't come back too late," Coulson warned as the boys started down the road.

Sam offered one earphone to Trip, "Listen to this one, _"T" stands for Trouble_. It's awesome."

Trip put the earphone in his ear and swayed his head to the blues jam. He stuffed his hand in the pocket of his jeans and fished out two pieces of chewing gum. "Want one?" he asked, already unwrapping his.

"Hell yeah," Sam said, snatching it out of Trip's hand.

The two chuckled.

* * *

**How many references have you found in this chapter?**

**Oh, next chapter... I love it. I'm sure you'll love it too. It features mostly Trip, Lance and Grant and a surprise character. I won't fall for the same mistake and reveal you the initials of the name or else you'd figure it just right again. There are also references of May and Coulson sparring at SHIELD's gym with ****Felix Blake and Jasper Sitwell. **


	14. Break-in and break down

**I totally had a blast writing this chapter. I mingled two of my ideas together and came up with this. I loved writing it, and I hope you love reading it too.**

* * *

May and Coulson were practicing at the SHIELD's gym with Felix Blake and Jasper Sitwell. Coulson and May were the ones currently sparring; Sitwell was benched already. Phil was sweating profusely, unable to attack until an opportunity arose. He was standing behind her, so he laced his arms around her waist, ready to lift her off her feet and slam her body to the floor. Melinda smirked, and in two seconds flat she spun, tackled him, and flipped him over her shoulders, crashing him down onto the mat.

Blake shook his head in reproach and said, "You are so out of shape, Coulson."

"Two down," May said, fixing her ponytail, "who's next?"

"Shut up, Felix." Coulson grumbled between gasps as he stood up, "You're next and she'll sweep the floor with your ass too."

"And your dignity and self-respect," Sitwell put in.

"And manhood too, apparently." May teased, "Whiny babies."

Blake stood up and loosened his muscles, confident he'd be the one to defeat May. Coulson flopped down on the bench, breathing heavily, and Sitwell clapped his shoulder.

"I know," he said pitifully, vividly recalling what it was like to be thrown across the gym by such a small woman. "I know the feeling."

"I know you do," Coulson said, gulping some water. "But she's my wife and I should know better."

"Is anybody here going to make it a challenge for me?" May asked.

When Coulson and Sitwell turned their attention to the sparring, their eyes met Blake already lying breathless on the mat and May looking down at him, arching a brow, with her hands on her hips.

"Wasn't Garrett supposed to come and train with us?" Coulson asked, offering Blake his hand and pulling him of the floor.

Sitwell rolled his eyes, "Lucky him. Didn't get his ass kicked."

As soon as he was on his feet, Blake caught Coulson off guard and looped an arm around his neck. The two started sparring and so May took a seat and drank some water. Coulson and Blake's sparring took longer than all of three spars May had participated in against the men. That revealed something: either those two were too good, or awfully bad. In the eyes of May both of them were bad. After a few minutes, Coulson gave up playing nice. He pressed a foot into Blake's thigh, boosting his body up and wrapped his legs around his neck, quickly bringing him down with his weight. As they fell on the mat, Blake landed on his knees, with his head still trapped between Coulson's legs.

"Ok, this is foul play," Blake mumbled, his face reddening.

"It's Brazilian jiu-jitsu," "Coulson said while releasing his hold on Blake, "it's a martial art."

"I knew you weren't so bad," May put in, "At least last night you weren't out of shape."

"Oh please," Sitwell whined, "keep your private life private."

Sitwell and Coulson began sparring next. May's attention was diverted elsewhere once she heard her phone ringing. She frowned as she saw the caller ID - it was Mimi's house number. Even though Coulson only heard an one-sided conversation, the content of it intrigued him.

"You stay there," May said on the phone, "Your father and I are on the way."

Coulson ended up down on the mat by Sitwell who rejoiced in his victory. He got to his feet quickly, seeing his wife gathering their stuff.

"What's the matter? What happened?"

"Trip called me from Mimi's," May explained. "He's saying someone is in our house."

It took Coulson and May twenty minutes to get home, and they were as fast as they could. Upon reaching their house, May confirmed what Trip had told her over the phone: there was a strange car parked in front of their house.

"Do you need a gun?" Coulson asked, reaching for his. "I've got my backup one."

"If I needed a gun, I would have taken one."

As he was approaching the front door, wielding his gun discreetly, Coulson peered inside through the window. He saw Trip, Lance, Grant and the figure of another person in there, and put his gun back in the holster.

"They're in there."

May also looked through the window and the two rushed to the door.

"It's locked from the inside," Coulson stated, "We could pick the lock, or try the back-" May kicked the door open, "Or that."

The three kids looked back, startled. Trip was wielding his baseball bat, Grant was armed with a frying pan and Lance was holding the Taser gun he found in one of the drawers in the office room but never told his parents he had found it.

"Put everything down," Coulson ordered.

They did as they were asked and stepped back, revealing a man tied up with duct tape to a chair. Coulson and May looked at each other; no way that that idiot was the one who was breaking into their house.

* * *

_Twenty minutes earlier_

Trip, Lance and Grant had just left the school bus and were walking down the road on the way back home. Upon seeing a strange car parked in front of their house, and the front door slightly open, Trip guided his brothers to Mimi's house.

"Why are we going to Mimi's?" Grant asked.

"I think there's someone in our house. I'm going to call Mom and Dad."

The oldest boy asked the lady if he could use her phone and told his mother everything that he suspected was happening. Grant and Lance kept Mimi distracted so that she wouldn't listen to Trip's conversation, and so she wouldn't be concerned about anything. The three then walked out of her house and stood nearby their house. They were watching from afar, feeling nervous and scared.

"You think whoever's in there is robbing our house?" Grant asked quietly.

Lance glanced his brother sideways and asked, "Why else would someone break into our house?"

"Well," the youngest looked at Trip, "then why don't we stop him?"

"No," Trip firmly said, "Mom said she'd be here soon with Dad."

"But we are getting robbed. We have to protect our house." Grant insisted.

"If one of you tackle the bloke, I can get him in a chokehold until he's unconscious," Lance suggested.

Trip sighed, "Nobody is doing anything to anyone."

The three lapsed into silence after that. The neighborhood was still quiet; not even the breeze made a sound. And whoever was inside their house wasn't coming out.

"Do you have your Nerf gun?" the oldest let out suddenly.

"No," Grant said. Trip rolled his eyes and the boy amended, "Maybe. Why?"

"If we're going to enter the house and take him down, we have to create a distraction."

"Uh, a Nerf gun doesn't really hurt, Trip."

"If you shoot at the right place, it hurts. You shoot the guy in the eye, I tackle him, Lance does the chokehold." Trip looked at his brothers, "What do you guys say?"

Lance rolled up his sleeves, "Let's get it done."

The three walked stealthily to their house and stooped down as soon as they entered the door. The burglar was nowhere to be seen so they felt even more scared. They moved in sync, hiding behind the walls in their hunt for the man. That was when they saw him coming down from upstairs. They froze where they stood.

"Look who it is," the man spoke, approaching them, "I've been waiting for you."

Grant breathed in deeply and pointed the toy gun at the intruder. He shot at his eye like Trip had told him to. The man clamped his eye shut for a few seconds which was long enough for Trip to lunge at the man and get him on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his torso, holding his arms still and Grant put down the Nerf gun and hugged the man's legs, immobilizing him. Lance slid across the floor on his knees and stood behind the man, placing his forearm across the front of the man's neck and with the help of his free hand he compressed his neck.

"It's ugh…" the man wheezed, "just… just a joke."

It didn't take long for his body to be motionless. The three let go of the man, watching his unconscious body crash down onto the wooden floor.

"We can't leave him here," Grant said, slightly scared by the situation, "When he awakes up he'll want to kill us."

"We gotta sit him on a chair and tie him up," Trip suggested, standing up as he recovered his breath.

The younger one insisted, "He looks strong enough to break a rope."

"Duct tape," Lance chirped as the idea struck him, "he can't break free from duct tape. I'll get it."

The British boy returned a while later with a roll of silver duct tape. The three kids worked on dragging the unconscious – and now very heavy - man and sat him in a chair. They duct-taped his forearms to the chair's armrest, his legs to the chair's legs and then used the remaining duct tape to wrap around his chest. The last little bit of the adhesive was used to cover his mouth and the cardboard roll was abandoned on the floor.

"We should get something to protect ourselves, right?" Lance glanced up at his older brother, "He might be waking up soon and he'll be very pissed."

Trip nodded his head and walked to his bedroom, returning with his baseball bat. He told his brothers to go and get something for themselves too. Grant brought a frying pan from the kitchen and Lance held the Taser gun he had found in one of the drawers in the office room.

"Go lock the front and back doors," Trip ordered Grant, "If he was here to rob us, he might not be alone."

Grant ran out of the living room as fast as a bullet, locking the doors and then resumed to his position. The three boys stayed in a fighting stance, wielding their weapons of choice, waiting any moment for the man to wake up. They were fearful that they wouldn't be able to tame the man again. And Mom and Dad were taking so long. Suddenly the noise of the door being kicked him startled them. Fear spread across their faces until they saw their parents and sighed, relieved.

"Put everything down," Coulson ordered.

They did as they were asked and stepped back, revealing a man tied up with duct tape to a chair. Coulson and May looked at each other; no way that that idiot was the one who was breaking into their house. Coulson walked to his friend John Garrett and began freeing him off the duct tape.

"What're you doing?" Grant piped up, shocked.

"He's a friend of your father's," May explained, "who happens to be a something which I can't say right now."

Lance asked, "An asshole?"

"Yes, he's an asshole. And that's a word you won't be repeating again in the future unless you want me to rip out your tongue," she warned looking back as she made the way to the kitchen to put the frying pan back in its place.

"Garrett?" Coulson called, slapping his friend's face, "Garrett wake up."

"Just leave him be," the woman said, "he'll wake up soon. By the way," she looked at their children, "didn't I tell you to stay at Mimi's?"

Trip nodded and replied, "Yes, but there was a stranger at our house and we had to keep everything safe."

Coulson looked back at them and asked curiously, "How did you duct tape him and get him unconscious?"

"I shot him in the eye with my Nerf gun," Grant began explaining.

May cut his speech, "I thought I told you not to play with that thing anymore."

"It came in handy this time," he amended.

"And after Trip tackled him," Lance continued, "I did a chokehold and knocked him unconscious."

"I told you I don't want you watching wrestling," his mother reprimanded.

"It was useful this time."

She sighed deeply and ordered, "Why don't go and wait for Leo and your sisters? They must be arriving anytime now."

The three walked out the door just as Garrett was starting to regain consciousness. He blinked a couple of times to get his bearings and once his vision stabilized, he saw a fist coming at him. May punched him so hard that he fell down and his nose began dripping blood.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" She roared, her gaze stern, "You think this was funny?"

"Fury ordered me to come here." Garrett said as he got up on his feet, pressing his hand against his nose. At that Coulson and May looked at him, demanding a lengthier explanation, "He told me to break in here, give a little scare to your kids. He said he wanted to know if you were teaching them about self-defense and other important skills."

May turned to her husband, "You better get him some ice and then show him the way to the door, or I might hurt him even more."

Coulson nodded his head, his mind already making plans for a surprise visit to the Director later that day. May walked outside, especially intrigued to know how the kids had found the Taser gun.

* * *

"Agent," a petite woman ran after Coulson as he walked at full speed in the direction of Fury's office, "Agent Coulson, you can't walk in there without Director's Fury authorization."

Coulson pretended he didn't hear the poor agent from Communications talking to him. He threw the door open without a second thought, which made Fury tear his gaze from the screen.

"I tried to stop him, Director," the agent justified.

"It's alright," Fury stood up and waved his hand, dismissing the woman, "you can go."

Coulson waited until the door behind was closed before he started, "What the hell was that this afternoon? Telling Garrett to break into our house and scare our kids?"

"I wanted to know if you and Agent May are teaching them anything useful. Turns out they're quite good, am I wrong?" Fury smirked, "They knocked Garrett unconscious and duct taped him to a chair."

"That's not the point. You pull another stunt like this, and…"

"And what Agent Coulson? Is that a threat?"

He breathed in sharply, fuming, "Or so God help me because you won't want to know the end of my sentence."

He didn't exactly know how to finish his treat, but he was sure if another opportunity would come, his brain would come up with the perfect revenge plot. Because Coulson was a nice, relaxed guy until someone would mess with his family.

* * *

**Next chapter will be about Trip's back story. Skye's and Fitz's back stories are written down as well, and will soon be posted. That chapter was one of my favorite.**

**But, let me know about your opinions on this chapter. I need new prompts to write, so feel free to send it to me through PM or review. **


	15. Fitting in

**Here it is, Trip's back story. I'll dig into it a little more on an upcoming chapter, but this was what you need to know for now. And here is why the reason why only Trip knows about SHIELD and May and Coulson being Agents.**

* * *

_Six years earlier_

* * *

May and Coulson were guided to Director Fury's office.

They heard him for a few minutes before May retorted, "With all due respect, sir, we are not a charity home. We can't keep adopting children that SHIELD sees potential in to become agents later on in their lives."

"I've only asked you this once, Agent May. And I'm sure Agent Coulson will convince you to keep this one," Fury said, looking at Coulson who frowned and then shrugged at his wife, quietly assuring her he didn't know what Fury was talking about. The Director picked up the phone handset and spoke, "Bring the boy into my office."

A tall boy entered, looking around. His brown eyes scanned the faces of the three people he encountered, and he looked back as the door was closed behind him. Slowly walking forward, he tightened his grasp around the straps of the backpack he carried on his back.

"Introduce yourself, kid," Fury ordered with a mild tone. "Name and age, please."

"Antoine Triplett, seven-years-old, sir."

"What do you know about this place?"

The boy looked around once again, "It's a room, sir. It belongs to SHIELD."

"Do you know why you are here?"

May and Coulson were still, eyes focused on the boy; he puffed his chest, trying to look confident, but his eyes let on that he was scared.

"My Nana just died, my Mom lives at a very bad place and wants me to have a better life, away from there. That's why I lived with my Nana, but now I don't have anywhere else to go. SHIELD will give me to a family to adopt me."

Fury pointed at May and Coulson, "Meet Agents Phil Coulson and Melinda May. They'll look after you from now on."

May looked back, her frown deepening; they hadn't agreed on anything yet.

Coulson looked at the Director as well, "How does he know about SHIELD?"

"Tell him about your grandfather, son." Fury asked the boy.

"Gabriel Jones, former Howling Commando. He used to tell me about SHIELD and how they'd help me when there'd be no one else to look after me."

Coulson sighed; that was a sad story and a poor scared little boy.

May grasped her husband's arm and looked at Fury, "Give us a second?" She pulled him out the door, "What's your thought on it? And don't use the fact that his grandfather was a Howling Commando as a convincing factor."

"He's scared, lost, all alone. He needs a family. He knows about SHIELD and that could be in our favor in a few years when Jemma's old enough to understand things. The boy could be a great help for us."

"Yes, I agree with all that. But he's seven and knowing we're SHIELD agents is a big secret. Don't you think he'll slip and spill the beans one day?

"Did you notice how disciplined and self-aware he is for a seven-year-old? He grew up among the secrecy and excitement of knowing big secrets. He won't slip; we've got nothing to worry about."

May had to admit Coulson might be right. But there was something else bothering her. Something far more concerning than their secret job.

"Do you think can we take another child into our home? You think he'll fit in?"

His smile grew and he pecked her lips, "He will. And we're capable of this. From this day on Antoine Triplett is a Coulson."

The two walked into Fury's office again. Coulson turned to the boy, "You have your things with you?"

"Yes, sir," Antoine replied. "Right here in my backpack."

"You'll be given the papers to sign in a few days." Fury announced. "I knew you'd accept him."

"Thank you Agent May and Agent Coulson," the boy voiced quietly, walking to the door.

Coulson placed his hand over his bony shoulder as the two walked side by side. "So, your name is Antoine. Do you have any nickname or does Antoine work fine for you?"

"Trip. I go by Trip, sir."

"Alright, Trip. You're going to love it at our house." Coulson continued, "You'll have a little sister. She's two years old and her name is Jemma."

"Jemma," Trip repeated, nodding his head as he repeated the name. "Got it. I have one question."

May looked at him, "Tell us."

"What do I call you two? I promise to call you Mom and Dad when we are out of the house, so that people don't suspect anything, but what do I call you when we are at home? Do you want me to call you Agents or Sir and Ma'am?"

"You call us whatever you feel like, alright?" Coulson told him.

"Alright."

Coulson and May exchanged a glance and then looked at Trip; they were hoping he'd fit in and grow used to the new family dynamics.

* * *

May walked inside with Trip while Coulson walked over to their neighbor Mimi to collect Jemma. The walk from Mimi's house to theirs wasn't long, but it was enough for Coulson to have a small talk with Jemma.

"When we get home, there's going to be there another boy. He is your big brother from now on and I want you to be good to him, alright, Jem?"

Jemma pulled her father's hand and asked, "What's his name?"

"Antoine Triplett, but he likes people to call him Trip."

"And he gonna play with me?"

"I'm sure he'll play with you, if you ask him nicely. Think you can do that?"

"Yes," she babbled and gave her father a toothy grin.

Of course she would be nice. Jemma was a little angel who befriended people immediately.

Coulson opened the door and let his daughter walk through the door first. Jemma took small steps as she walked into the living room and saw the boy, her big brother. Her grin grew as she walked to him.

"Hi," she waved her hand, "I'm Jemma."

Trip smiled back at her, "I'm Trip."

"I know," Jemma mumbled, looking down and awkwardly swaying her body, "Daddy told me."

"Have you shown Trip his bedroom?" Coulson asked his wife, unable to wipe the silly smile he had on his face as he looked at the two kids.

"No, not yet." She said, getting up. May beckoned the boy to follow her and he promptly tailed her. Coulson and Jemma walked upstairs as well.

"There's nothing in your room, Trip," Coulson told him, giving a light squeeze on his shoulders, "As you know we weren't really expecting you, but we'll buy everything during this week."

"I understand," Trip replied with a smile, assuring the couple everything was ok.

May opened the door of the spare bedroom and showed him that there was nothing there, but she let him walk in and get used to know that that would be his new bedroom. Jemma grabbed Trip's hand and pulled him to her bedroom. She pointed her crib.

"My crib is Trip's bed."

Trip snickered and stroked the top of her head, "I'm too big for your bed. And besides, it's your bed. I'll get mine soon."

"I think for once you might be right," May said, joining her husband in spying on their children, "Trip will fit in just right."

"I might be right just once?" Coulson feigned to be deeply wounded by her comment, "How about that time in Hawaii, when we -"

"You weren't right that time. It was a lucky guess."

Coulson and May continued to quietly bicker until they heard Jemma giggling and Trip looking at them with a smirk and frown.

Jemma turned to her brother and explained, "Mommy and Daddy bicker lots. It's 'kay. They don't be mad."

* * *

**Leave me your reviews, tell me that Trip is just adorable and Jemma totally beats him by being even more adorable. I know they are cuties! ^_^**

**Next chapter: another prompt. I had so much fun writing, I can't wait for you guys to read it. ****It was suggested to me by ****memorysdaughter.**


	16. Crazy Train

**I had a blast writing this prompt. It was suggested to me by ****memorysdaughter.**

* * *

"Your mother hates me," Coulson grumbled, sitting on the bench as they waited for the train doors to open. "She says she wants to see her grandchildren. No problem. But then why didn't she take a train here and visit us? No," he groaned, "she wants us to take our six children on a train ride all the way to her house."

"Phil," May started slowly, looking back at him, "be quiet for a moment. If there's anyone here that's allowed to complain it's me."

"My apologies," he said sarcastically, crossing his legs and resting back on the bench.

"My mother hates me," May said under her breath, pacing back and forth on the platform, "She honestly, truly hates me," she insisted, dragging her fingers through her hair, combing it back.

"Mom!" three of their children shouted in unison.

May sighed and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift away for a few moments. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Kids," Coulson warned, "stop running around."

The only word he heard in response was 'but'. After that Leo, Skye, and Grant all spoke at the same time, explaining their side of the events.

"Just sit down, please," he begged, "all of you. We're boarding the train soon."

Soon enough they were allowed to board the train. May led the way to their seats, followed by her children, and Coulson walked behind all of them to make sure everyone would get in the right passenger car and not get lost. They had just barely taken their seats when the train began moving. Lance looked out the window as the train sped up.

"Can I go check out the driver?" he asked, turning to his father, simply because he knew that he would be easier to convince.

"No," May responded, "no one wants to be bothered, especially while driving a train."

"I won't bother. I just wanna see."

Coulson sighed, "Don't disturb him and don't touch anything, okay?"

Lance smiled and got to his feet and started walking down the hall.

Grant got up as well, "I'll go with him. I wanna see it too."

Not even ten minutes later Leo and Jemma were avidly looking out the window, fascinated by the scenery. However they couldn't see properly from their seats. They began walking around the passenger car, looking out different windows in hopes of getting a better view.

"Can we go to another passenger car?" Jemma asked her father - again, sure that she would have more luck with him than with her mother. "We can't see anything from here."

"Don't get too far away. And please return soon."

Leo and Jemma grinned and disappeared from their sight in seconds flat.

"So," Trip started as he glanced at his parents and Skye, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his seat, "Can I go and walk around too?"

May exhaled, "Just be careful."

Trip nodded and stood up, trying to decide if he wanted to go left or right. Skye shifted in her seat, ready to jump to her feet.

"Ah, where're you going, Miss?" Coulson asked.

"I wanna go too."

"No," May firmly forbid, "you're too young to wander around on your own. Sit down and play with your father's phone."

Skye pouted and sat on the edge of her seat again, turning to her father to get the phone.

"Sit all the way back, Skye," he told her as he searched for his phone.

She shook her head, "Nah-uh. I can't. The seat folds."

"Don't be ridiculous," her mother said, pushing her back in her seat.

It turned out that Skye was right. The seat folded and sandwiched her, leaving just her wiggling feet as she tried to push herself up and out. Coulson and May rushed to help her but Skye was completely swallowed by the seat. As Coulson and May tried to rescue Skye, the railroad engineer got tired of Grant and Lance's incessant questions. They wanted to push all the buttons and to know what every switch did.

Leo and Jemma ended up wandering around the train and found themselves lost. However, they didn't mind it in the beginning as they got to chat with two other passengers. The man was British, and extremely smart, and the woman that accompanied him wasn't any less clever. She was the one who first introduced herself to the two kids: Joan Watson, former surgeon, former sober companion and now consultant detective with the NYPD. Leo and Jemma took in everything the two of them said.

And as for Trip, he found a particular set of people he knew existed, but that he had never seen before in his life. The triplets all wore a full suit, but their ties were of different colors. They were playing Jenga, all concentrating intently on the game. He wanted to join them because they seemed to be the only people around his age on that train, not to mention he was bored and wanted to be entertained.

"Hey there, guys," Trip greeted them, frowning curiously at the sight of the three identical boys, "Mind if I join you?"

"Hey," they replied back in unison.

"Not at all," one of them spoke up, "Take a seat," he pointed and then introduced himself, "I'm Sam."

The second one continued, raising his hand, "Billy."

"And I'm Eric." The last one introduced himself.

"I'm confused," Trip admitted.

The brows of the triplets creased almost simultaneously, "Your parents named you 'confused'?" Billy asked.

"Ah, no, no," Trip stammered, "I'm Antoine. Triplett. Trip," he stretched out his hand, getting three handshakes, one from each of the triplets, "I go by Trip. I was just saying I was confused, you know," he tilted his head and pointed in the general direction of the three of them, "because you -"

"Oh, of course," they crooned in unison again.

"Even our parents can't tell us apart sometimes," Sam admitted as he started building the Jenga tower again.

"How do they do it then?" Trip asked curiously.

"The ties," Eric said and pointed at his, "Emerald tie. E for emerald and E for Eric."

"Sam, scarlet tie," Sam added, tapping his bright red tie with his index finger.

"Billy, -"

Trip interrupted him, smirking, "- Billy, blue tie. Think I got it. Blue for Billy, emerald for Eric and scarlet for Sam."

"You got it," Eric rejoiced, "now, let's start this game."

* * *

Coulson and May were sweating buckets by the time they removed Skye from the seat. It had been quite a task because if they'd pull her out abruptly, she'd have been seriously injured. May carried her out to the platform while her husband ran through all the passenger cars, looking for the remaining children. Trip found his way out the train and back to his mother on his own once the triplet boys left with their parents. Leo and Jemma were reluctant to stop chatting with the consulting detectives. They were learning so much from them that they were sulky with their father for making them leave, their bad attitudes lasting all the way to their grandmother's. Lance and Grant were escorted to the platform by the railroad engineer who had an upset expression on his face. Apparently shutting up and not touching anything wasn't the kids' forte.

"Your mother hates us," Coulson stated to his wife, "Profoundly hates us."

"Thanking you for stating the obvious," she retorted sarcastically.

Visiting Lian May was always catastrophic. It always led to six upset children and a couple arguing all day long. But the good thing about the visit was returning home. The kids would behave again and admit they've missed home and Coulson and May could attest that the make-up sex was particularly more rewarding than regular sex.

* * *

**The triplets Sam, Eric and Billy were definitely one of my favorite parts.**

**I mashed two of my favorite fandoms into this in case any of you missed it (Sherlock 'verse and MCU). Leave a review, let me know how you're feeling about the story, anything at all.**

**Next chapter is the one maybe everyone's been waiting for: Skye's and Leo's back stories. Stick around because your jaw will drop when you read about Leo's story (there's no information about Fitz's family so I took liberty to play with it as much as I could).**


	17. An olive and an arrow

**I found the poem featured in this chapter at allpoetry . com . All of its rights belong to DarknesInvadesMe (Leala Scott), the author of this poem.**

**Just to give you an idea: during the flashbacks, when Coulson and May adopt Leo and Skye, they already had adopted Jemma, Trip and Grant (in that order). And since there's no information on Fitz's family, I took the liberty of shaking things up.**

* * *

"Read me this story?" Skye asked, walking to Leo who was sitting on the couch.

"I don't…" Leo sat up straight and looked at his sister who was doing her best to trick him into saying yes - and she succeeded. "Ugh, fine, come here."

Skye smiled and skipped to take a seat at the couch as well. "You're the bestest brother ever, you know, Leo?"

Leo and Skye couldn't be more different. They were like water and wine, a sunny day and a thunderstorm, an olive and an arrow. But some things about their past were the same. First of all, they barely remembered their birth family; secondly, their so-called birth family was destroyed by HYDRA; and lastly, it was because of SHIELD that they met their new family.

The boy flipped the book open and began reading, "Thousands of years ago in ancient China, there lived a beautiful young woman named Mulan. She lived with her parents and a dog named Little Brother. Mulan's father had once been a great warrior, but his leg had been injured in battle. As an only child, Mulan felt responsible for upholding the family honor. One day, a man arrived with terrible news from the Emperor. The Huns, China's enemy, had invaded."

* * *

"Look Mama," Leopold babbled, showing his mother the paper he had been scribbling on.

Maeve took the paper and nodded, "Very good, Leo. You've got them all right."

The boy grinned and gave her the pencil, "Gimme more."

Three-year-old Leo loved numbers. At his age he could already counted to one hundred, having perfect understanding of all the numbers. Maeve didn't pressure her son to be a brilliant mathematician. In fact, it was him who pressed his mom to give him elementary arithmetic operations to solve. Maeve took the pencil and wrote a few more basic operations. She put the paper before Leo, gave him back the pencil and got up once the doorbell rang.

She stroked her son's hair, telling him, "Do those. I'll just go and check the door."

Maeve opened the door with a smile, but as soon as her eyes met the man standing outside her door, her smile faded away and her face assumed a look of terror. She tried to close the door, but the man pressed his palm flat on the door, gently pushing it open.

"Go away, Devin."

"Let me in, Maeve," he ordered, pushing the door open and proving Maeve that she was powerless against him. "I came to see Leopold."

"You- how do-"

Maeve couldn't find the words to speak. She had met Devin during the Saint Patrick's Day celebrations. Their stomachs were filled with sweet beer, which had lowered their inhibitions enough that neither of them could stop everything that happened that night. Despite having had an one-night stand, Devin had been enchanted by Maeve and had found her later. They had dated briefly, before his behavior turned strange, and before Maeve got pregnant. From that day on it was their downfall. Maeve couldn't tell why Devin had become so different, but it wasn't certainly all because of the unplanned pregnancy.

He had suddenly disappeared out her life – now their lives – and Maeve had had to give up her pianist career in the orchestra. She found herself alone with a little baby to care for. As she looked down at the boy in her arms, she realized she'd never be alone anymore. She'd always have her son. Devin had never seen Leopold, not even once. In fact, he didn't even know Maeve was expecting a boy, let alone did he know his name.

"You are not here to see anyone. Get out," Maeve sternly ordered, pushing him out the door.

"I've heard he's brilliant," Devin smiled in a twisted way as he spoke.

"Out!" she yelled louder.

Devin pulled out of a gun and shot Maeve in the throat. She fell on the floor, blood pooling around her. The man walked in, stepping callously over Maeve's body and her blood, and found Leo.

"Hello, Leo, it's Daddy." The boy looked up, clueless. Devin picked him up in arms and told him in a low voice, "You are so smart, Leo. We need little boys like you."

* * *

SHIELD had no idea of what that facility was. Well, did they know it was HYDRA's because there were drawings of their characteristic symbol on the walls of the long, white halls. What the Agency failed to know was what HYDRA used that compound building, three stories below the surface, for. There wasn't anyone around as they walked stealthily in line, trampling along the halls. There wasn't even a sound. Upon reaching another door, one agent signaled with his head at another one, and the two opened the door and walked in.

"All clear," one of them said in a low voice, lowering his gun.

The agents continued to patrol through the building, in search of anything or anyone. Eventually they found a massive lab room, bigger than those that SHIELD had. The air was heavy and warm, and they could hear muffled breathing coming from somewhere in the lab. As they looked around, the agents found dozens of people hiding a storage room attached to the main room.

"Holy…" an agent mumbled as he peeked through the small glass window on the door.

The hostages were crumpled up against the wall, terrified. They had no idea if those people were good or were there to hurt them.

A HYDRA operative walked into the lab and dropped a gas grenade. It began filling the lab with a toxic fume before SHIELD could fire a bullet. The agents wheezed and coughed blood as the gas evolved the air. A few SHIELD agents covered their noses and mouths in the crook of their arms as they kicked down the storage room door and pulled people out of the lab. Those who stayed behind in the lab bled, coughed and died, their faces melting off because of the toxic gas.

_Warriors in shiny armor start to wither._

_As the Hydra starts to slither._

_Their skin slowly melting off._

_The dark fog giving them a blood cough._

Once far away from that lab, the few remaining SHIELD agents began asking the people they rescued what that facility was built for. It turned out it was an operations base of HYDRA and they had been kidnapped to invent and build weapons of mass destruction for the organization. Among the prisoners was a little boy, three years old, looking around with his thumb stuck in his mouth.

"What's your name, little man?" a SHIELD agent asked, stooping down before the toddler.

The boy took his thumb out of his mouth with a popping sound. "Leo."

"What are you doing here, Leo?"

He shrugged, "I'm smart."

The man sighed and carried Leo in his arms, leading the prisoners out of the HYDRA building.

* * *

Skye – Daisy back then - woke her parents with loud screeches. Cal jumped out of bed swiftly, rushing to his daughter. Daisy's face was red and big tears rushed down her face.

"Hey, hey, what's the matter, baby girl?" he cooed, picking her up.

The baby gasped, feeling short on breath, and let out another loud cry. The man felt his insides ripping to bits. He cuddled Daisy to his chest and rocked her body, making shushing sounds. Cal wondered how come Jiaying couldn't hear their daughter cry. The woman was very much awake, tightly gripping the bed sheets. She could sense something very bad was approaching. Daisy crying like that was just another sign.

Calvin sang, "There is a flower within my heart, Daisy, Daisy, planted one day by a glancing dart, planted by Daisy Bell. Whether she loves me or loves me not sometimes it's hard to tell. Yet I am longing to share the lot of beautiful Daisy Bell."

_Battle cries sound off in a dark foggy haze._

_Upon seven heads they gaze._

_With a slice they remove one head._

_Stump spurting the acidic blood they all dread._

Jiaying tossed in bed when she heard what sounded heavy steps outside the window. She could hear the friction of their boots on the gravel ground. Jiaying's pulse ramped up. _The time has come_, she told herself. She pulled the bed sheets back and sat on the edge of the bed, straining to hear. But her heart pounded too loudly and her breathing was harsh. Jiaying slipped into her clothes and walked to the window. She looked outside. There was no one there, yet her heart wouldn't settle. Something wasn't right; she could feel eyes on her.

_Weapon_, her mind screamed, _I need a weapon!_ She darted toward the bedside table. Like always, Cal had left his pocket knife there. Jiaying slid her fingers around the grip, appalled by how much her hands shook. That was when she saw the shadow of a person creeping in the wall in front of her. She whipped around, a gasp breaking from her lips as she threw a glance back at the window. A man was staring at her.

_Daisy, Cal_ \- that was her next thought. She rushed to the nursery room, finding Cal sitting on the rocking chair with Daisy in his arms. The two slept quietly and undisturbed. She figured she'd walk outside alone. After all, those people were there for her. If they knew about Daisy, they'd want to take her too. Jiaying sighed in relief as she realized that her baby girl would be alright if no one knew about her.

The HYDRA agents took Jiaying to Austria where Reinhardt waited for her and the other villagers he ordered to be taken to him. He experimented on her, removed everything he could from her, and then ordered one of his followers to dispose of her body. He dumped her in the Hunan Province again. When Cal found his wife's body, he went into a murderous rage and slaughtered everyone in the village. SHIELD found a massacred village and the cries of a baby.

* * *

On that particular day in November when Coulson and May arrived home, the two were edgy and hiding something from one another. Trip, seven-years-old then, and Jemma, two, were sleeping, all thanks to Mimi. Grant, the still traumatized six-year-old, waited awake for his parents to get home. Coulson had to lay by his side for a few minutes until the poor boy's heart settled and he fell asleep. Even though their three children were already sleeping, the day had been anything but smooth and Coulson was exhausted. His only thought was of his bed and his wife in his embrace, but his sleepiness died out once he entered the bedroom and May quickly hid whatever file she was reading.

"I don't have clearance for that?" he asked, undoing his tie.

May sighed and showed him the file, tossing it to the end of the bed. "This file was in my desk."

Coulson swallowed at that but didn't let on his secret. He opened the file and read the most important details: Leopold Fitz, 5 years old, Scottish, found in a HYDRA lab two years earlier, pending adoption, fifteen failed adoptions up till now. All the families that had taken him, all fifteen, had returned him only a few weeks later. They all reported that Leo was absurdly smart and that he somehow made them uncomfortable and left them with the feeling they could never be able to cope with the little boy's intelligence.

Coulson returned the file to his wife and said, "I've got one too."

"So you know about him already?"

He cocked his head, "Not exactly." Coulson gestured that he was going to get the file and once he returned to the bedroom he showed it to May, "I got this one."

"Skye, no surname," May read, "changed orphanages five times already."

Skye was born Daisy Johnson in the Hunan Province of China, but once she was put into the adoption system, two years before, her name changed multiple times; she was Willow Scott in Massachusetts, Heather Evans in Ohio, Ivy Lewis in Maryland, Violet Baker in New Jersey, Mary Sue Poots in New York. SHIELD had her bouncing from orphanage to orphanage as if she was a hot potato. But unlike Leo, no one had even made the effort to adopt her: whether it was because she had the misfortune to be sick the day a couple visited, whether it was because of her Asian features, or maybe it was because she was three years old but had a mouth that moved faster than the speed of light.

At that moment Coulson and May realized that the reason they had been given Leo's and Skye's files wasn't only because SHIELD wanted them to adopt the kids. The Agency had screwed up big time with the two cases.

_It is far too long before they take note._

_Far too busy trying to gloat._

_Two more heads have grown from it's throat._

_Bodies now lay in a huge heap to rot and bloat._

_Down the river Styx is where they float._

SHIELD failed to see that HYDRA, at least a small independent branch of their supporters, was growing freely, abducting people and forcing them to build weaponry. Leo was collateral damage; he had no fault in anything: he didn't choose to be smarter than anyone else, let alone choose to have a father who was a HYDRA devotee. SHIELD failed to see that their enemy was experimenting on people. It cost Skye her whole family: her mother died and her father went insane.

"So, which one do we adopt?" Coulson asked softly.

* * *

"Everyone in the plaza bowed to Mulan, too. The Emperor asked her to stay on as his adviser, but Mulan knew it was time to return to her family. At home, Mulan presented her father with a sword given to her by the Emperor." Leo flipped to the last page, "'The greatest gift and honor is having you for a daughter,' her father said, 'I've missed you so.'"

"Mulan was so cool," Skye said, receiving the book back from her brother.

"Well," Leo smiled, "You're pretty cool too. When you want to be."

Skye giggled and nudged her brother in the side, "You're cool too, Leopoldio."

"Hey!" he grumbled, "That's not funny, Doctor Nugent."

Maybe Leo and Skye weren't that different after all.

* * *

**So, there it is, the chapter everyone was waiting for. What were your thoughts on it?**


	18. Bad Case of Loving You

**Even though I was already thinking of ideas for this chapter, it was purpleorchid25 that spurred me into writing it.**

* * *

Lance ran his palms across his thighs, wiping the cold droplets of sweat onto the fabric of his jeans and exhaling slowly through his mouth. The fact that his mother was sitting across from him gave him butterflies in his stomach, and knowing that they were waiting for Coulson to join them at the table for a serious conversation only made him even more nervous.

"Leo's sleeping at last," Coulson said to his wife as he took a seat next to her.

The boy sighed and asked, "Can you just box my ears and –" Under his parents' confused look, he rephrased, "Can you just smack me or something and call it a night?"

"Absolutely not," May said, "We need to have this conversation with you."

He leaned back against his chair and exhaled. "Ugh, if we really have to."

Coulson began, "So, first of all we'd like to know how you got a black eye."

"It was an accident," he explained weakly.

"Let me guess, you tripped and smashed your face on the ground," May retorted.

Lance nodded his head emphatically, "Yes! That's exactly what happened. Glad we solved this," he got up and started to leave. "Good night every-"

"Sit. Down," Mary ordered. Lance turned and flopped back down on the chair, "Who did you pick up a fight with?"

"No one," Lance claimed and then fell quiet for a while. With his head lowered and his eyes focused on the table, he confessed, "Someone picked up a fight with me."

"Explain," she insisted.

"Barney, Clint's brother. He punched me because I took Clint's hearing aids," Lance rushed to continue his explanation as his parents seemed ready to reprimand him, "It was a joke. I wasn't going to break them, and I gave them to him right away. He was being an idiot, but I wasn't going to do anything stupid."

"What's her name?" Coulson asked with a knowing smirk.

Lance's face reddened in a second and he stammered, "Uh, wha-what? N-no, there's no girl. No one. No. One."

"You see," the man began boastfully, casting a glance at his wife, "when men are in love, they don't think."

"Do men usually think?" May teased with an expressionless face.

Lance groaned and covered his red face with his hands, "Oh, dog's bollocks," he mumbled sarcastically, "our Highness Queen Lizzy, save me from this," he sighed with frustration.

And so the longest hour of Lance's life began as he was lectured by his parents.

* * *

Mr. Mayer was by far the most boring teacher any student could have the misfortune of meeting. To make it worse, he lectured American History and it seemed that he had given up on being a good teacher ages ago.

"Class," Mr. Mayer's monotone voice echoed in the silent classroom, "we have a new student." At that everyone raised their heads.

A tall, blonde girl stood by the teacher's desk, her eyes shyly scanning across all the new faces. Lance found himself taking a deep sigh and smiling foolishly. The new girl was absolutely stunning and he was certain his young heart was in love. But he wasn't the only one. Clint Barton, sitting on his right, was just as enchanted as Lance. The boys smiled, both looking at how the girl's hair cascaded down her shoulders, how her blue eyes skimmed across the whole class, how bright her smile was.

"Introduce yourself," Mr. Mayer ordered.

The girl nodded slightly and spoke, "Hi, I'm Barbara Morse, you can call me Bobbi. I'm ten-years-old and I just moved from San Diego with my parents."

Lance mouthed her name quietly, liking how it rolled off his tongue, "Barbara. Bobbi. Barbara Morse."

"Take a seat wherever," the teacher said, walking to the blackboard.

Bobbi strode across the classroom and sat in an unoccupied desk, the one on the farthest left, right next to the window. Lance and Clint were both staring stupidly at her, smiles gracing their faces.

Mr. Mayer gave the class instruction before sitting down at his table to play with his phone, "Class, read chapter 3 from the book. Once you're done, you'll do this quiz," he pointed to the stack of papers on top of his desk, "and once you're finished, you'll swap with your neighbors and correct each other's test. Then you'll silently read chapter 4 and write a summary of it for your homework. Questions? No?" those were rhetorical questions - he wasn't expecting a response, "Good."

From that day on, Lance and Clint fought to be the best at getting Barbara's attention. Everything one did, the other had to do better. Bobbi kept on rolling her eyes and sighing. The boys thought her reaction was because they weren't trying hard enough. The truth was that she was tired of having two fools trying to please her when she clearly said she didn't need or want a boyfriend. Barbara Morse was no princess waiting to be rescued, but Lance and Clint thought she was very girly despite the fact she could wipe the floor with their faces without breaking a sweat.

The day came when Lance found himself without any more arguments to convince Bobbi that he really liked her. Clint, on the other hand, seized the moment to get closer to her. One day, Clint sat next to Bobbi during lunch - that was the end of Clint and Lance's almost-nonexistent-friendship. Lance put down his tray and then walked with fast strides towards Clint. The Iowan boy stood up, ready to throw a punch at Lance if it was needed, but quickly he realized that Lance was not going to beat him. He was going in for a much lower blow: Lance swiftly removed Clint's hearing aids.

The boy became paralyzed, hearing a buzzing noise in his ears and nothing else. His breathing quickened as he looked around frantically. A world with no sounds was a terrifying place for a ten-year-old. He had a love-hate relationship with his hearing aids: they were uncomfortable and he was made fun of because of them, but he couldn't live life without them.

"I'm sorry," Lance mumbled an apology, utterly embarrassed, staring at the tiled floor. Just then he forgot Clint couldn't hear him at all. "I'm sorry," he repeated after giving him the hearing aids back.

"You damn idiot, I-I…" Clint put them back in his ears with shaky hands. He couldn't control his breathing just yet, his panic mixing with anger.

"I'm really sorry."

It didn't matter how many times Lance apologized; Clint was very touchy about it. Getting his hearing aids taken away by some kid from school was almost like a routine for Clint, but it didn't mean he was used to the humiliation. The next day, Clint showed up in school with a bruise on his upper arm shaped clearly like fist. His brother, Barney, had smacked him and told him to stop being so vulnerable and weak towards bullies.

On the way home from school, Clint flinched and tried to rush to the school bus. His brother Barney, the tall, red-haired teenager by the school's gates, was waiting for him. Barney caught up with his brother quickly before he entered the bus. He signaled the driver that he was going to take his brother home. He firmly placed his hand on Clint's shoulder, squeezing it strongly, and guided him towards the school's entrance. The young boy was squirming in pain but complying with his brother's order.

"Which one is Lance?" Barney asked.

"It's alright now, we're cool."

Barney clawed his fingers deep into Clint's shoulder, "Only one way this is gonna end, baby brother: you tell me which one is Lance or I'll ask around." The boy didn't answer, "Well, I'll be asking-"

"No, wait," Clint pulled his brother's wrist off his shoulder, "I'll tell you." He shyly raised his finger and pointed, "That's him, the one in the white T-shirt."

"Lance Hunter?" Barney straightforwardly asked as he walked to Lance.

The British boy nodded his head, "Yeah? Do I know you?"

Barney threw a punch at Lance, "Now you do." While Lance silently concealed his pain, pressing his flat palm against his new injury, the teenager grasped the collar of his T-shirt, "Only I get to mess with my baby brother. Understood?"

Lance nodded his head. The fear that was spreading across his face changed into concern once he noticed Grant standing next to him, clenching his fist and gritting his teeth.

"Grant," Lance began calmly, "you don't ha-"

Grant moved quickly: one punch to Barney's face, one to the stomach and a kick to the side of his ribs. Barney collapsed on the floor and Grant stooped over him, grimly whispering, "Only I get to mess with my brother. Understood?"

Mr. Quinn, the janitor, saw the fight and put down the leaf blower so he could rush to the scene. "What in God's name is going on here?"

Barney got up on his feet, short of breath, and wiped the blood that dripped from the side of his mouth onto the sleeves of his shirt. He let out a grunt and glared intensely at Grant and Lance before walking away.

"Are you two alright?" Mr. Quinn asked, placing one hand over each of the boys' shoulders.

Grant brushed off the janitor's hand and tugged Lance's wrist, pulling him away. The school bus had already departed and they had a long way to walk home. And not to mention that they'd have to give full report of what happened to Trip, and then beg him not to tell Mom and Dad.

* * *

As soon as Lance was cleared to go to bed, he moved like a zombie, dragging his tired body and bored mind all the way upstairs. Of course that was all an act, because what he really wanted was to distract his parents and go to Grant. Lance opened Leo's and Grant's bedroom door quietly (May and Coulson sacrificed part of the office room and expanded the remaining spare room into a bedroom for Lance and Trip; it wasn't easy for the four boys to share a room anymore) and noticed two things: one – Leo was nothing but a lump under the bedsheets and the comforter – and two – Grant was awake, but was pretending to be asleep.

"You damn snitch!" Lance accused in the loudest tone he could muster at the moment – which was very quiet – because he couldn't wake anyone. "You told Mom and Dad about the fight."

Grant sluggishly rolled over in bed and looked up at his brother with sleepy eyes, "They asked me, I told them."

"Yeah, and couldn't you lie, genius? I just got a one-hour lecture because of you."

"Because of me?" The younger one grumbled, sitting up in bed, "You're the one sporting a black eye. They'd know about the fight anyway. If anything, this is your fault."

"What? This is –"

"– Go away!" Leo mumbled, throwing his pillow at Lance's head.

"Fine," Lance gave up and tossed the pillow back at Leo, "I'm going, but you're gonna pay for this, Grant."

"Yeah, look how scared I am," Grant snorted, lying down in bed again.

"You better be," the British one threatened before walking to the door.

Grant snickered, "What's the best you can do? The same you did to Clint's brother – freeze, clamp your hand over your eye and hope someone doesn't kick your ass? How can Bobbi like you if –"

"– Ugh, shut up!" Lance mumbled, infuriated, climbing over Grant's bed to smack him in the head, "I don't like her!"

The two began fighting, with Grant subduing his older brother (not that surprising since he was taking in everything he was learning at boxing classes).

"Mom! Dad!" Leo shouted at the top of his lungs.

Coulson walked hurriedly into the bedroom, his hair mussed, his tie sloppily loosened, the top two buttons of his shirt missing – not unbuttoned, missing – and a red mark on the side of his neck that ended right under his ear. Luckily the boys were too young to know what, better yet why, their mother had done that to their father. Coulson managed to break Grant and Lance apart and drag the older one to his bedroom. The boy was visibly upset, sitting at the edge of his bed while taking a deep breath and sporting a sulky expression on his face.

"Listen to me, Lance," Coulson said, stooping to be at his eye level, "there's no reason to be upset. It's only natural to have your first crush at this age, and your mother and I promise we won't tease you about it."

"Did you have one too when you were my age?" he asked, looking down at his lap as he played with his fingers, "A crush?"

The man smiled slightly, "I did. Her name was Jennifer, beautiful as could be."

"What happened?"

"She didn't like boys with braces," Coulson chuckled quietly, "She grew up to not like boys at all, actually. Well, she's the one who's losing; there're so many handsome men like us and she chose to play for the other team. But that's a talk for another day."

"She's a lesbian," the boy naturally acknowledged, "no need to have more talks with me about anything else."

"No more talks about anything else?" Coulson lifted the bed sheets so that Lance could slip into bed, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Lance pulled the bed sheet up to his chin and shifted in bed, turning his back on his father, "Not even the sex talk."

Coulson left the bedroom without saying anything else. He was shocked with Lance's answer. When he walked in his bedroom, May sat up in bed and walked to him, tugging on his tie to pull him closer.

"Took you a long time," she said in a low voice.

"I think Lance might get a girl pregnant before he's sixteen," he replied, still utterly stunned.

In a swift move, May ran her hand down Coulson's shirt and unbuttoned his entire row of buttons. "That's something I would rather worry about some other time."

"I won't survive today," he muttered before May pressed her lips on his.

* * *

**Clearly Lance's going to get a girl pregnant before he's 13... xP**

**Next chapter: Natasha's chapter. Finally... **


	19. Из России с любовью

**Finally, Natasha's chapter is here.**

**Translation of the only sentence in Russian is at the bottom.**

**One more thing: reread chapter 4 if you don't remember it; Coulson's mission there is directly related with this chapter.**

* * *

Coulson sat on the couch watching the Russian girl, lying face down on the floor, doodle. Everything was silent and they were the only two in the house. The man could feel his secret eating him from the inside out, but how could he open his mouth to spill something like that? He couldn't. Not even May knew about it.

It all happened almost a year and a half ago when he was sent on a mission to Russia and came home with a second-degree burn. Coulson and his STRIKE team of five men were surveilling a building, just across from the motel room they were staying in. Three members of the team were sleeping as Coulson and the other two members of the tactical team remained on stakeout. That was when Coulson spotted that a fire had started in a nearby building. It was a spontaneous fire and it was progressing fast.

When Coulson and the team got to the building, the flames had already consumed part of the façade. Bystanders stood on the sidewalk in their pajamas, wanting to step in, but fearing the flames. The six men walked in, trying to clear a safe path while finding and guiding as many people outside as they could. Coulson arrived at a fifth floor apartment. A woman was lying, dead, by the door, the fire starting to crawl over her body. As much as it twisted his stomach, Coulson had to erase that image from his mind, leave the woman, and look for trapped survivors in the rest of the apartment. Because there was someone alive there, it was only a matter of time until he found from which door the poundings were coming from. It was a young girl, as old as his daughters, coughing and crying out for help. He swung her off of her feet quickly and picked her up in his arms. The apartment began to collapse, but they didn't leave just yet.

The girl pointed to another bedroom, repeating the names Vindiktor, Vladimir and Anatoly. Coulson walked amidst the wreckage to the door the girl pointed. He had to kick it down and found the bodies of three boys in their beds. One of them was older than the girl he carried, and the other two were small infants. Natalia shouted their names, and they didn't move. She cried, hugging the man tightly, believing they were dead.

(The three boys were alive but were separated after being rescued from the fire; Vladimir and Anatoly ended up having their surnames changes to Ranskahov and moved to Hell's Kitchen, and Vindiktor was killed years later by Natasha herself after they met in Russia and he blamed her for the death of their family)

Just as Coulson was almost out the door, a big beam of wood fell over his back, and his clothes immediately caught fire. He made it into a room where the fire had yet attacked. It was the kitchen. He put the girl down on her feet and put out the fire burning his clothing. Realizing that there was no way that would allow him to leave the apartment with the girl safely, Coulson decided that he'd throw her out the window. The bystanders would catch her – or the firefighters, as they had arrived by then – and then he'd leave the building, with more or less physical damage.

Coulson made it outside with a burn on his back and his arm, and then he learned that two of his agents hadn't made it out of the building. Something else that troubled him was the fact that, after the fire was put out, the firefighters removed fifteen corpses. And he didn't know where the girl he threw out the window was. She surfaced about a year later, in New York. The FBI had been tracking down a man named Ivan for trafficking, and with him they found a seven-year-old, Natalia, who he had illegally brought into the country. He was training her to follow down his path of life. Once Coulson saw the girl's face on the news, he knew it was the girl he rescued from the building in Stalingrad. The FBI kept Ivan, SHIELD got the girl. Coulson said he'd take her in his house until they found her family or a place at an orphanage, preferably in Russia.

How could he really open his mouth to spill such things? He couldn't. He saved Natalia from a fire, threw her out a window in hopes of saving her life , and ended up putting her in the arms of a criminal who was training her to be a killer. The secret was killing him, but if he could do the best for Natalia now, then he'd feel slightly better.

Natalia tried to pick up a crayon to continue coloring, but as she didn't tear her gaze away from the piece of paper, she pushed the crayon away instead. Coulson picked up the blue colored crayon that rolled all the way to his feet and gave it to her.

The girl looked up and smiled slightly, "Thank you."

She continued to color the paper as Coulson looked at the drawing, "That is you?" he pointed the stick figure she had drawn.

"Uh-uhm," Natalia nodded her head as well for emphasis, "And this is the sky," she pressed her finger over the top of the sheet, completely colored in blue.

"You like the sky?"

"Yes. Birds fly, they're free, and there are clouds there."

"I know of a place here in the city, the rooftop of a building that is so tall that you can almost touch the sky. Would you like to go there?"

She looked up, grinning, "Yes."

"I think we can go there today. Melinda is coming home early, and tonight is pizza night, so we can leave once Melinda comes home."

Once Natalia resumed her drawing, she got up and offered the paper to Coulson, "You're giving me your drawing?" the girl nodded, "Why don't you write your name on it before giving it to me?"

"How?" Coulson frowned at Natalia's question so she explained, "English or Russian?"

"As you want," he said, giving her the paper.

Natalia picked up the black crayon, held it in her left hand and wrote 'Natalia' in English. Then switched the crayon to her right hand and wrote 'Наталья'. Coulson was impressed, and no matter what horrible things Ivan was doing and teaching Natalia, he did teach her something amazing: he allowed her brain to be compartmentalized and to think in two different languages.

Coulson received the paper, "Thank you. I'll keep it in a nice place."

* * *

Natalia looked around, every little detail fascinating her. The brick walls of the buildings, the cabs and buses, fast and loud, the skyscrapers, the scent of hot dogs and exhaust fumes, the plane engines roaring up in the bluest of the skies. The girl's eyes lit up and she had a giddy smile, feeling high on the feeling of meeting the city from a different perspective. Mr. Coulson was nice to walk hand in hand with her and to point at buildings and people and seemingly uninteresting things, explaining to her about them. She loved it. He told her they were going to take the subway. Even though the building with the high rooftop wasn't far, Coulson wanted her to experience the New York subway. It was an interesting ride, in all its possible aspects.

After going down the stairs to the subway and purchasing two tickets, the two of them took a seat on a bench, waiting for the subway train to arrive. Natalia swung her legs, taking in the details of the station: there was an almost overwhelming mixture of noises and scents and it was extremely hot due to the many, many people in there. Next to her sat a woman smelling of cheap perfume and tobacco. Natalia didn't like the way she looked at her from head to toe with a scornful grin. Her hair was like a bonfire, like angry birds were fighting in it. Coulson put his arm around the girl's shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

"Oh, there it is," Coulson said, standing up and holding out his hand to Natalia, "there's our train."

Coulson rode the subway standing, Natalia took a seat. He could see her attentive look scanning the faces of the other passengers, finding out about their lives, seeing past their masks. He could tell she'd grow to be quite an observant one. Once they hoped off at the station, Natalia did her best to keep up with Coulson's pace, as he held her hand and pulled her up the grubby stairs out of the subway station. They walked past a jazzy beggar on the saxophone blowing as hard as he could for a few coins. Natalia stopped to listen to him and then looked to her side, seeing a man toss a coin into his sax case. Coulson pulled a five dollar bill out of his wallet and gave it to Natalia. The girl stooped down and gently placed the bill in the saxophone's case. The man blew some groovier notes, his lips forming the best smile he could, given the fact he was playing, as a way to thank both the girl and the man.

They had wandered a bit away from the downtown area now and the sun was setting. Natalia didn't mind. She was too enthralled looking up at the sky sloppily brushed with tones of orange and watching flock of birds crossing the sky. Coulson directed their route to the back of a tall building and they climbed up the fire escape. The more they climbed up, the more the city atmosphere faded away. Silence embraced them as they reached the rooftop. The warm summer air blew gently and Natalia opened her arms, feeling it whip against her unzipped jacket. She giggled and ran around the rooftop.

A blonde-haired boy showed up from behind one of satellite dishes with binoculars in hands. He looked at the girl, she looked at him, and the two of them were frozen where they stood. His expression melted into a smile and he offered her the binoculars.

"I was watching the birds."

Natalia crossed the distance between the two and picked up the binoculars, and looked through the lenses, seeing the boy's face enter her vision, given the fact that she was standing so close to him. She laughed and then commented, "I like the birds. They're free."

The boy nodded in agreement and pointed to the sky, "Over there, a red-tailed hawk."

"Wow, there are so many birds."

Coulson was watching the two of them at distance, fascinated as to how Natalia was socializing so well with a boy she had just met. She barely socialized with his children back at home, so that boy must have some sort of special charm.

"What're those?" Natalia asked, pointing to his ears, returning the binoculars to him.

"Hearing aids. I'm a bit deaf."

"If you take them off you can't hear?"

The boy removed the two hearing aids and said a bit too loudly, "I can barely hear now."

Natalia smiled and took the boy's hand, taking him with her on a run around the rooftop. The two giggled, playing tag. Coulson sat on the edge of buildings wall, watching them play. It was delighting that he had accomplished what he wanted: Natalia was feeling good about being there. Coulson ended up getting hot dogs for the three of them at a vendor's stall just around the corner from where they were.

The girl's happiness didn't last long. She had to part ways with the boy she so liked - she didn't even get to know his name but they promised each other to meet to birdwatching another time – and when she got to Coulson's house, she overheard May telling her husband that SHIELD had found an orphanage in Moscow to send her to. Now that she was starting to like things around she had to go away.

* * *

Natalia sat bolt upright, the word 'Ivan' quietly escaping her lips. She heard her heart thumping in her ears and felt that there wasn't enough air for her to breathe. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face to her legs, sniffling, as warm tears trickled down her cheeks.

"Перестань плакать, Наталья. Вы не ребенок." Natalia whispered to herself. That was what Ivan used to tell her.

Once she regained control of her emotions, Natalia threw a quick glance around the bedroom. The British girl (Jemma was her name, maybe…? To be honest, Natalia couldn't even understand her when she spoke, let alone remember her name; her accent was thick and she fired words faster than an automatic gun) and the younger girl, the one about her age (Skye – this one the Russian remembered well because she liked the sky, the clouds, and the warm sun) were sleeping and she was the only one not sleeping; she was awake and petrified.

Swinging her feet off the bed and down on the wooden boards, she shivered as the chill from the floor ran up her spine. She walked slowly to the door, hugging herself in a futile attempt to keep her body warm. Natalia felt herself trembling with cold, all of her hair was spiked up to its ends, and an icy sweat moistened her palms. A crack of light crept its way into the bedroom's floor as Natalia opened the door slowly. Her bare feet were nothing more than a pitter-patter echoing along the hall she strode. Natalia's first instinct was to walk to the living room, to the windows, into the light, heading for a spacious place with plenty of things that could be used as weapons.

"Natalia?" Coulson's voice quietly spoke as he raised his head. He woke up at the sound of her steps, as he had fallen asleep sitting on the couch.

The girl gulped in some air, sharply, and swiftly turned around, taken aback by the voice that spoke amongst the darkness. Her eyes filled up with tears and she gripped the pajama's cloth tightly, staying motionless in the middle of the living room.

"Come here," the man invited, holding out his hand for her.

Natalia didn't have time to hold her tears. They just immediately dropped from her eyes, streaming down her snowy-white cheeks. The girl crawled up the couch and nestled against Coulson's side, her tears still rapidly coursing down her face as she did her best to swallow her whimpers. Coulson tossed the folder over the coffee table and dragged her small body onto his lap, cradling her close to his chest and wrapping his arms around her. She was shivering with fear and cold. He fitted her head under his chin and gently patted her back.

"I'm scared," she cried, tightening her grip on a handful of Coulson's shirt fabric.

"Don't be. I'm here."

"Ivan -"

"- is gone," Coulson assured her, pressing a kiss on top of her redhead. "Ivan's gone. Natalia, do you trust me?"

Natalia nodded her head, not even bothering to look up, brushing her cheek against his chest, "I trust you, Mr. Coulson."

Of course she trusted him. Mr. Coulson gave warmer hugs than Ivan; in two weeks Mr. Coulson was much more caring than Ivan had ever been even though he had taken care of her when her mother and her brothers died in the fire and she had no other family left.

"Then call me Phil. And don't think of Ivan ever again."

"And when I go away?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"Trust me, Natalia. I'll keep you safe, no matter where you are," he ran his fingers through her hair, "But you know it's best for you to go, right? You'll go back to your country; you'll grow up where you belong."

"I understand," the girl sniffled and wiped her tears with the palms of her hands.

* * *

"They'll take good care of you there," May said, perfectly aware that it was a lie. Orphanages were not places for children.

Natalia looked down at her feet and Coulson ducked to be at her eye level, "Remember what I told you?"

"You'll keep me safe no matter where I am."

"Exactly. Then trust me, Nat," he stood up and helped with the straps of her backpack, "I -" looking back at his wife he amended, "we'll keep an eye on you. Don't worry."

The girl gave a firm nod and walked to the flight attendant to be escorted to the plane. While they waited in the queue to board the plane, Natalia ran all the way back to Coulson and May again.

"Mr. Coulson," she asked, "if you see that boy again, can you tell him my name?"

"I will. If I meet him again, I'll tell him your name is Natalia and that you really liked his company."

Coming a few steps closer, she whispered, "Tell him I'll be back to watch birds with him soon."

"I'll tell him," Coulson smiled unable to hide his sadness, "Now go before you miss your flight."

* * *

"Перестань плакать, Наталья. Вы не ребенок." -**Stop ****crying****, ****Natalia****. ****You are not a child.**

Из России с любовью (chapter's title) - From Russia With Love.

**I guess I don't need to tell you that the birdwatcher boy is Clint, but either ways I just told you. It's a sad story, and yes, Natasha is being sent to the Black Widow program. Coulson and May don't even suspect that such facility exists, let alone knowing that she was going to one.**

**I'll give you some heads up about next chapter, because lacking a better (and most accurate) expression, you're going to shit bricks when you read it: Grant and Leo learn about SHIELD. You'll get to learn about what happened to Grant that led him to be beaten up and tied to the house's radiator (check chapter 9) and why did SHIELD walked in the HYDRA's lab and found Leo there (check chapter 17). The "shitting bricks" part is about Leo's story - there will be some deepening about his father's real identity, his motivations, and it might give you some difficulties in hating that man again. Just a heads up, no biggie *****sadistic smirk***


	20. Sheep, Wolves and Sheepdogs

**Like I said, this chapter gives you new perspectives to Leo's and Grant's character. Regarding to Grant's story (as to how he was found tied up to the house's radiator) there are some triggers such as violence against children and mentions of rape. Speaking of Leo's story is far more interesting. You get to learn who his father really is. It's an unthinkable choice but because it's so unthinkable it just gave me even more the appeal to go through with the idea. You're gonna go WTF, and I'm already expecting it very patiently. I loved the idea I conceived mainly because it's so WTF.**

**There will be more notes at the end, and the translation of the sentence in Spanish is also there.**

* * *

"You don't have to be here, Phil," May spoke, kneeling on the bathroom floor, her forearms resting on the sides of the toilet basin.

"I promised to stay by your side in health and sickness when we married," he patted her back, "I'm honoring our vows. And being a supporting husband."

"If you could throw up for me that would be supportive. Other than that you're just a -"

Coulson somewhat appreciated that May threw up again because he could tell that she wasn't going to say anything nice. "Come on, get it all out."

"Not helping at all," May growled, "I think I might puke my stomach out."

"Want me to get you some tea?" Coulson asked, rubbing his wife's back but looking away as she threw up again.

May's hand groped around until she managed to flush the toilet and then she sat back until she was resting on the tiled floor, "Tea would be good."

"You think you may have caught something during the mission?"

"Uh, don't think so," May covered her mouth, feeling the nausea overwhelming her body again (luckily, this time it was a false alarm), "Leo was sick, so I must have gotten it from him."

"Yeah," Coulson placed a kiss on the top of her head, "whatever it is, let's hope it ends with you."

She playfully pinched his thigh, "Go get me that tea."

Coulson left to go to the kitchen and May thought of moving from the bathroom floor to her bed. However, when she tried to push herself up from the floor, she felt like someone had kicked her in the lower part of her stomach.

"Really?" May stared down at herself, "It's been some twenty odd years since I had cramps like this," she murmured while grimacing, and, once she got on her feet, she had to hold on tight to the washbasin's edge, "Oh, and now this."

Her world was spinning, she was feeling terrible cramps, and she still felt tired, sore and nauseated. Friday night after a field mission had never been so interesting, she thought sarcastically as she dragged herself to bed. In the kitchen, Coulson was preparing a mug of tea for May when he was surprised by Grant. The man was so startled by the kid's presence that he swallowed fifteen different curse words so as to not traumatize the kid.

"What're you doing here?" Grant took a seat instead of answering, "Can't sleep?"

"No. And I kind of want to ask you something."

Coulson sighed – it was past one in the morning and Grant had something ask him? That didn't give him a good vibe. "Alright, let me just get this tea to your mother. I'll be right back."

When he returned, Grant was still taciturn and pensive. He pulled out a chair and sat next to him. "Tell me what's going on."

"I guess I have to explain something to you first."

"I'm all ears."

Grant adjusted his position in the chair before beginning, "Back at my old house, my father used to say I was weak. He beat me up a lot just because he felt like it, I guess, and when he was tired, he asked Christian to continue beating me."

"Grant, that's all over now."

"I know. He said Christian and I were monsters, he said that Sarah would grow up to be a whore - I don't even know what that means. But only Thomas was good. Only he was perfect."

"Who are Sarah and Thomas?"

"They're my brother and sister. Sarah should be twelve now, and Thomas, two."

"You never – no one ever said -"

"I know. That's why I'm telling you this. One night..."

_"Dad, please," Grant mewled and sobbed, "I'll be a better man from now on."_

_"Shut up, Grant," Brody ordered, whipping the boy's bare back with his belt, "It's in the Wards' blood to be monsters."_

_Grant gripped the edges of the table strongly, digging his nails deeply into the wooden cover. He silently sobbed and big tears rushed down his face. Every now and then a gross sob escaped his mouth, which led to Brody's angry shout, "Shut up, Grant!"_

_There wasn't a bit of skin on his back that wasn't red and hurting. Grant trembled already and screeched despite his father's commands. He couldn't take it any longer. Neither could Brody. His arm hurt already. So, he dropped the belt on the floor and Grant relaxed, thinking it was all over. The man opened the fridge, picked up a beer, and sat in a chair._

_"Christian, c'mere," Grant cried harder, hearing his father call his brother. Once the teenager showed up, Brody ordered, "Pick up the belt and hit him." Christian didn't react, "Hit him or you're next."_

_"Christian, please, don't," Grant begged, looking at him. He shifted his gaze to their father, "Dad, please. I'll be a -"_

_"Shut up, Grant," his brother hissed, picking up the belt and whipping him strongly across his back._

_Brody crossed his leg, taking a sip on his beer, "Harder, Christian. I don't raise sheep in this house. I raise wolves."_

_It didn't matter how much Grant begged. Christian liked hitting him as much as their dad did. Every time Brody beat up Christian he'd then take his revenge by hitting his brother. Their mother didn't interfere, keeping quiet and pretending she couldn't hear the whipping sounds. Grant wondered if Dad hurt Sarah too, because she hated him and trembled every time he got close to her, but he had never seen his father lay a finger on her. Christian told him their father raped Sarah almost every night; poor Grant didn't even know what the word meant. All he knew was that he did bad things to her too. But not to Thomas. He cradled the baby in his arms, cooed to him, treated him with care and affection. Brody said only Thomas was good; Sarah, Grant and Christian were bad. Bad children, bad people, they were monsters, basically._

Coulson hugged Grant, "It's ok now. Don't think about those thi -"

"I did something that night."

His father parted from the hug, and looked into his eyes, saying in the sweetest and gentlest way possible, "What did you do?"

_Grant could barely breathe. He shook heavily, kneeling before the toilet, throwing up the contents of his stomach. He stood on his feet and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was pale, his eyes red, and he turned to get a look at his back. Old bruises mixed with the more recent ones. He didn't remember his back being a normal color; it was always red, then purplish and finally black. He put on his shirt with silent groans and then stepped out into the bathroom. He peeked into the living room. The TV was on, but his father was knocked out having downed half a bottle of scotch. His mother and Christian slept in their bedrooms as if nothing had ever happened. The boy entered his sister's bedroom, watching her ball up under her covers, fearing it was Brody entering. Grant pressed his index finger against his lips and made a shushing sound so that she wouldn't speak._

_"Get dressed," he told her. Seeing that she didn't move, he repeated a bit louder, "Get dressed, Sarah. I'll be right back."_

_Sarah nodded and slid out of bed, slipping into her clothes. Grant went to his parents' bedroom and started looking for the baby sling carrier - or the kangaroo strap, as he called it. Once he found it, he attached it to his chest and walked to the crib where his baby brother slept. After lowering the iron gates, he carefully picked Thomas up and pressed him against his chest, strapping him into the carrier. Thomas slept unperturbed, his cheek resting against his brother's chest, but his weight on Grant's shoulders made his back hurt and he shut his eyes tightly and sighed deeply, tears dripping down his cheeks. One of them fell on Thomas' few brownish hairs. Grant wiped his brother's hair with his thumb, mouthing a silent 'sorry' and then he walked out of the bedroom, going back to his sister._

_"You're ready?" he asked Sarah as soon as he opened the door._

_"Where are we going?" Sarah limped to him._

_Right… he forgot that Sarah was hurt, but he couldn't even imagine that it was his father who had hurt her when he had raped her the night before and had almost broken her leg. He held her hand and the three walked to the kitchen, heading towards the door that accessed the backyard. Once they were out on the porch and hadn't been caught, Grant climbed down the two steps of the porch and stopped._

_"Climb up," he said, "I'll carry you."_

_Sarah was older than he was – a year, sure, but older – and he was hurt and carrying their baby brother in a sling, "I'll hurt you, Grant."_

_"Climb up."_

_She did as he asked, apologizing when she heard him gritting his teeth and failing at containing his tears and sobs, "Where are we going?"_

_"I'm taking you two away."_

_Grant walked miles, crying with every step but he didn't give up. Not until he made it into the city's downtown._

"What did you do to them, Grant?"

The boy looked at his father, pride filling his chest, "I got into an alley, put Sarah down, and gave Thomas to her. Then I pointed out the way to the fire station across the street and told her to lie about our family. I told her she'd have to say that she didn't remember me or Christian or our parents because I knew our father would really want to get Thomas back, so no one could know. I guess she lied really well because she never showed up at the house again. The next day my father beat up Christian a lot and he ran away. Then he turned to me, realizing it was me who took Sarah and Thomas away." He lowered his eyes to his lap, playing with his fingers, "I don't remember much after that. I only remember waking up tied to the radiator and the police walking into the house."

Coulson cradled Grant's face and pressed a kiss on the top of his head. "You are an angel, Grant. You're not a monster. What you did, carrying your siblings for miles to keep them safe? I don't think I'd have the guts or the strength." He took a deep breath and resumed speaking, "I guess what you want to ask me is to look for Sarah and Thomas?"

"Not really," Grant looked up, "I want you to teach me how to be a sheepdog."

"A sheepdog?" Coulson asked.

Grant could hear his father's words echoed in his head, "My father used to say that,

"_There are three types of people in this world: sheep, wolves and sheepdogs. Some people believe that the devil doesn't exist in the world and if hatred appeared at their door they wouldn't know how to protect themselves. Those are the sheep, and I'm not raising any sheep in the house. Am I?"_

_"No, Sir," Christian and Grant answered together, even if the tone of the youngest was much quieter._

_"Good," Brody said and resumed, "Wolves are predators. They use violence to prey on the weak. These are the ones you are. You are wolves."_

_Grant knew he'd probably regret asking but he questioned anyway after his father fell silent and continued to eat, "What are the others?" Brody looked at his son, "You said that there are three types of people in the world. What are the third ones?"_

_"Sheepdogs. Those are blessed with talented aggression and a good heart to care for the others. They're a rare breed and I'm not raising those at home. The Ward men are all monsters. That's inherited and you can't escape that fate. Only Thomas broke the curse."_

"Teach me how to be a sheepdog," Grant asked, eyes brimming with tears as he looked at Coulson, "I'm not a Ward anymore."

"Come with me," Coulson said as he stood up, "It's time you know about it."

Coulson walked to his home office, sat at his chair, and unlocked the top drawer. He beckoned Grant to come closer and pulled him onto his lap. After opening the drawer he got out his badge and showed it to the boy.

"This is what a sheepdog looks like."

Grant held the badge and looked at the ID card. His finger traced the writing as he read, "Phil Coulson, Field Officer." After noticing the acronym at the top of the card, he looked at Coulson, "What's SHIELD?"

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. We're are a counterterrorism and intelligence agency."

"We?"

"Yes, we. Me, your mom, and many other agents. We fight every day to keep the world safe. All of us are sheepdogs."

"What do you do then to be one?"

"I protect people and try not to hurt others in the process. That's what being a sheepdog is about."

"That's what I want to do too."

Coulson ruffled his hair, "It's still too early for you to decide anything for your life. And now it's not the time to think about it. It's too late for you to be awake. Come on, I'll tuck you to bed."

Grant nodded and the two began walking to the bedroom that the boy shared with Leo. The youngest one was awake, sitting in his bed, solving a Rubik's cube but not exactly paying attention to it. He was lost in his thoughts. Leo didn't have many memories of the time he had spent at the orphanage. That was mainly because he was always bouncing from a family's house back to the orphanage. He barely grasped a sense of home anywhere. He couldn't remember much of the time before the orphanages. He couldn't remember his mother's face that much, but he remembered his dad. He remembered the lab where he had spent most of his time with the scientists, but mostly he remembered his papa always walking around the building with him, making him laugh, always handling him with care and affection.

_The scientists in the HYDRA lab flinched as they saw that man walking in. Leo knew him as Devin, his Papa, but the scientists knew him as Sunil Bakshi, Mr. Whitehall's right-hand man._

_"Papa," Leo cheered, climbing down the chair he was sitting on, ready to make a run for the man._

_"Not now, Leo." Bakshi said, not paying attention to the boy, at least not for now. Leo saddened and returned to his seat. His father clasped his hands behind his back and walked around, taking peeks at the works laid out over the tables, "Is the device ready?"_

_"Uh, Mr. Bakshi," one of the scientists struggled, following him, "the thing is -"_

_He stopped suddenly, "I don't care what the thing is. Mr. Whitehall doesn't appreciate delays. You've got," he checked his wristwatch, "one hour to complete the device. Understood?"_

_"Yes, Sir."_

_Bakshi left the lab again and the captive scientists let out relieved sighs. No one had died that day – at least, not yet; usually one or two people would be escorted out and never seen again. Two engineers commented on how no adult man could link the wires of the device to get it to work. Those wires were deep in the circuit and only tiny hands could reach them. Only Leo's hands were tiny enough for the task. They were well aware that one inch to the side and the device would blow up the entire lab, but they could all go to the adjacent room protected by a thick concrete wall and survive the blast. It was a risk worth taking because they didn't really have a choice: either all of them would be executed or Leo would take the chance in trying to assemble the device._

_"Leo, come here."_

_"Yes, Mr. Wyatt?" Leo answered, running to the man, a smile framing his face._

_Wyatt swallowed hard, thinking that they were going to put the innocent Leo through something that could kill him, but they had to do it. Not to mention that many believed that if Leo died that would affect Bakshi, so it wouldn't be such a loss. They'd settle for anything if they could torture at least one of the men that was responsible for holding them captive there._

_"Let's play a game," Wyatt said, picking the boy up in his arms. He walked to a table and sat the boy on a chair, "See those yellow wires down there?"_

_Leo leaned over the circuit board and nodded, "Yeah, what about 'em?"_

_"We need you to put them together. Those two little tips, they connect, can you see?" The toddler took a closer look and nodded again, "But that's one thing. You know what happens when you play Operation and when the tweezers touch the edge Sam's nose lights up red and you lose? Well, here's the same. You can't touch anything else or else this buzzes and goes kaboom. Think you can connect the wires without making a kaboom?"_

_Leo grinned, "Yes."_

_Wyatt ruffled his hair and whispered before leaving, "I'm really sorry, kiddo."_

_The scientists moved to the adjacent room, leaving Leo inside the empty lab. The boy bit the tip of his tongue, his concentration reaching its peak, focusing on the small circuit board before him. The scientists were safe out of the lab, protected by a thick concrete wall, watching Leo through a thick layer of glass. But they were terrified at the thought of seeing a little boy dismembered into bits right before their eyes._

_"Oh Dios mío, no puedo ni siquiera ver esto. Si él falla por un milímetro que sea, nosotros vamos a morir -"_

_"Bite your tongue, Pepe," One of the scientists said sternly and then shifted his gaze to the glass, looking at the boy, "Leo can do it."_

_It took him long minutes of concentration before Leo lifted his head and happily chirped, "I did it!"_

_"Get everything else and assemble the weapon," Wyatt told his fellow companions as they entered the lab, "Mr. Bakshi will be here in 50 minutes."_

_Bakshi entered the lab that second. Everyone froze and looked at him, "I need an engineer to prep the asset."_

_The room was dead silent until one of them raised his hand, "I – I'll go."_

_"Be careful," the Spanish captive warned, "he has a robotic arm and is always very erratic after they pull him out of cryo."_

_"For today, Mr. Mathieu," Bakshi said by the door, "the asset's mission is in thirty minutes and time is precious. And ticking."_

"_Yes, of course, Sir. On my way."_

_Bakshi stopped before leaving and turned around, "Want to come with me, Leo?"_

_Leo smiled and ran to his father. He swung him off his feet and carried him in arms. Very excitedly Leo told his dad, "I did it."_

_"You did what?" he tickled the boy's side, "You caused any mischief?"_

_The toddler giggled, "No."_

_"Are you sure?" Bakshi lightly bopped the boy's nose with his index, "Because you're a real mixer."_

_"I put the wires together. Mr. Wyatt saided it was like playing Operation, that I had to put the wires together without making a kaboom. I did it and then they maded what you wanted."_

_"He did what?" Bakshi stopped abruptly, his gleeful attitude disappearing. He put his son down on his feet and ordered, "Stay put, Leo, hear me? Stay right here, don't even move. I'll be right back."_

_Bakshi walked to the lab in quick strides, pulled out his gun and looked for Wyatt. Once he found him, he aimed the gun to his head, took the shot and then warned the others as the man's body fell to the ground, "Let him be an example. Do not ask Leo to do experiments again."_

_The HYDRA man fit his gun back into the shoulder holster and returned back to his son. He picked him up again and walked to his office._

As soon as Leo sensed someone approaching his bedroom, he lay down in bed and pulled the covers over his head and pretended to be asleep. Still, he couldn't hush his thoughts despite knowing that his dad was putting Grant to bed. One of the (dis)advantages of being so smart was the capability to focus on several tasks at the same time, so while he thought, he was also listening to Dad telling Grant that he and Mom were SHIELD agents and that it was all supposed to be a secret. Apparently only Trip knew about it.

_Whitehall was sitting on a chair with a scotch glass in his right hand, staring at Bakshi's empty chair on the other side of the desk._

_"Here, got you this," Bakshi said as he put Leo down at his feet. He pulled out of his jacket's pocket a small-scaled Rubik's cube that he gave to the boy, "Each face of the cube has to have only one color. Try to do it."_

_Leo climbed up to his father's office chair and swung his legs, entertaining himself with the cube. Bakshi walked in at a slower pace - he didn't really appreciate that his boss was in the same room as his son._

_"You're sitting at the wrong side of the desk, Sir," Bakshi said._

_Whitehall looked back, "I'm a visitor and this is the base I assigned you to. I'm sitting on the right side."_

_"The asset is being prepped for the mission," the other commented, taking a seat at his chair and sitting Leo at his lap, "and the weapon based on the Tesseract's energy is finally ready."_

_"That is good news," Whitehall got up, "The asset better be well instructed not to leave loose ends; it's time that Howard Stark is out of the way. He causes too much trouble."_

_"Papa, look!" Leo excitedly chirped, showing his father one of the faces of the cube completely covered with the color red._

_Bakshi's lips curved into a small but genuine smile, "That's really impressive, Leo."_

_"He's smart," Whitehall commented, casting a glance at Leo who was still entertained by rotating the cube's layers, "He'd look good sitting in that chair in a few years."_

_"I don't want him following this lifestyle."_

_"Mr. Bakshi, you're doing a remarkable job here, but you're getting a soft spot. That's bad. You know what you had to do to Maeve. I'd really hate to have to hire someone to…" the man pondered on his words for a moment, "take him to meet his mother. Wouldn't you hate it as well?"_

_"This won't be a problem, Sir."_

_"It better not be," Whitehall gulped down the scotch in a single sip and gave Bakshi the empty cup, "Keep me updated."_

_"I will, Sir."_

_Bakshi swallowed hard after Whitehall left his office. Perhaps it was time to anonymously tip SHIELD about the location of the lab. He'd leave Leo behind for them to take away and protect. He had already had to shoot Maeve under a crazy hypnosis Whitehall put him through all because he wanted his smart son under HYDRA's wing. Now Bakshi wouldn't allow him to hurt Leo too._

_With his eyes focused on the outside, the man smiled, "Look, Leo," he pointed as he walked to the window, "there's a ship on the river."_

_"I wanna see," Leo left the cube over the desk and snaked his arms around his dad's legs._

_His father picked him up so that he could look out the window, "Look over there."_

"I know you're awake," Grant said after Coulson left the bedroom.

Leo kicked the bed sheet back and sat up in bed again, resuming to solve the Rubik's cube with fast dexterity, "Dad is SHIELD?"

"Yes. But it's a secret so you can't tell anyone."

"I heard that too," the genius pointed out.

"Well, go to sleep now then," Grant said, lying down in his bed.

"HYDRA's bad, SHIELD's good," Leo mumbled under his breath, "Papa's bad, Dad's good."

_"Leo, repeat what I've told you," Bakshi ordered, walking in a fast pace with Leo in his arms, wanting to leave him in the lab as quick as possible._

_"HYDRA's bad, SHIELD's good."_

_"Repeat it again and again."_

_The boy did so until he asked, "Papa, are you SHIELD?"_

_"No, Leo. I'm a HYDRA scumbag and this is why I have to do this," he stopped by the lab's door, put Leo down on his feet and stooped down until he was at his eye level, "You're gonna be alright, ok? Now go in the lab and always remember what I told you."_

"HYDRA's bad, SHIELD's good," Leo finished solving the cube, dropped it on the floor and laid down, whispering into his pillow, "Papa's bad, Dad's good."

* * *

**"Oh Dios mío, no puedo ni siquiera ver esto. Si él falla por un milímetro que sea, nosotros vamos a morir -" means "Oh my goodness, I can't even watch this. If he misses by a millimeter, we're going to die -"**

**When Bakshi said that Leo was 'a real mixer' that's British slang for being a troublemaker. Also, still regarding his character, I wanted to make him a neutral evil in this story. I stand with Bobbi's assumptions when she interrogated Bakshi ("The Things We Bury" – 2x08) and believed that he strives not to disappoint his superiors. I chose to make him having pressure points, Maeve and Leo, his son more particularly.**

**Now, just to give you some understanding about this chapter's title and how it relates with the characters: Coulson is a sheepdog, Bakshi is a sheep wearing a wolf's skin, Leo is a sheep and Grant is a sheep under a sheepdog's fur, Brody (Grant's father) and Whitehall are the wolves.**

**And on a finale note, I think you all picked up that May isn't exactly sick…**

**Next chapter is focused on Lance. I put together one of my ideas with a suggestion made by starfire25. There will be some more back story on him, and also some revelations that no one knew about Lance.**


	21. Did I Fall Asleep?

**Picking up starfire25's suggestion and putting it together with mine I came up this rather long chapter. Hope you guys enjoy it.**

* * *

Lance walked home from school alone. God, he hated detention. And to make things worse, Mom was home, so he was sure she was going to reprimand him as soon as he entered the front door. May completely lost her patience every time Lance was forced to stay at school after class because of his misbehavior. He was a troublemaker and he didn't seem to learn from multiple detention sentences. Even though May tried to reprimand him, her speeches were hypocritical. At the Academy, she had been far worse than Lance, but she somehow turned into an exceptional and disciplined agent despite her past. May wondered if it was best that she and Coulson stopped worrying about Lance's detentions; after all, he sometimes acted like a baby: the more they warned him not to do something, the more he felt he had to do it.

While he walked home, Lance felt something strange was going on. He couldn't remember much. He simply remembered a shadow suddenly appearing behind him and following him on the sidewalk. He sped up his pace; the shadow followed suit. Then he began running, his breathing quickening to match his extra effort. His running steps echoed in the narrow alleyway like in the bounces of a ping-pong ball. In his backpack, his books bounced around uncomfortably. Of course, whoever was following Lance was a grown man who could run much faster than him. So, aware that he was going to be caught any second, Lance didn't hesitate to enter the building that appeared right in front of his eyes.

"And lead us not into temptation,"

He had just entered the town's church and they were right in the middle of a Mass. Everyone looked back at Lance as he threw the door open abruptly. Despite the boy's sudden entrance, the parish focused on the Pastor and continued to pray.

"But deliver us from evil. Amen."

Pastor Tom continued the Mass as if it had never been interrupted and Lance flopped down at a bench by the back of the church. He swallowed hard and worked on recovering his breath but his heart was still thumping too wildly. He didn't know who was following him, and to be honest, he wasn't exactly eager to find out. Lance put his schoolbag on the bench next to him and patiently waited for the Mass to be over, but for him, it seemed to last forever. Perhaps it was the fear of knowing that someone was chasing him for some reason he didn't know and that that someone might still be outside.

_Finally_, Lance thought silently, the Mass was over. The churchgoers left quietly through the door. Lance thought of leaving with them, but he feared the mysterious person could still be waiting outside. So he slid across the bench, hid in a shadowed corner, and waited. He watched the acolytes putting out the candles and helping the Pastor tidy up the altar. Once they were done, they moved to the sacristy to remove their vestments. Then the lights gradually went out and Lance's heart tightened once he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. Did he just get himself locked inside the church?

"Oh, you're bloody brilliant, Lance. Bloody. Brilliant," he muttered to himself, getting up and wandering around the church.

The absence of light made the images of the Saints look terrifying. He walked around, thinking of banging on the doors, hoping for someone to rescue him . The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the room again. Lance breathed in sharply. He felt a mixture of hope with terror. Was that Pastor Tom coming back or was it the man who chased him?

"Pastor Tom?" he whispered, walking slowly towards the sacristy.

A man dressed fully in black walked towards him with slow steps. He had a mask covering his face and a white cloth in his right hand.

"You're not Pastor Tom," Lance puffed, taking fast steps backwards. He was startled once he hit a bench and fell on his butt, but he quickly scrambled to his feet and continued to walk backwards down the hall, "What do you want?"

"You," the man's voice came out low and deep.

"Why? What did I do to you?"

"You? Nothing," he carried on, getting closer to Lance, "but your aunt did. Or better yet, she's not doing what she should."

Lance opened his mouth, ready to shout out a cry for help when the man ran the last couple steps to him and grabbed him, covering his face with the cloth. The boy kicked and scratched the man but it was to no use. The man was burly and Lance felt his consciousness slipping away quickly. Everything fell quiet and faded to black.

* * *

_Adelle impatiently checked the time. Sure it was the young man's birthday, but there was no excuse for his delay. She sighed and had another look at the menu – for the fourth time. She was beginning to lose it and things were bad when Adelle DeWitt lost her temper. The woman straightened her white blouse and readjusted her sitting position. Another glance at her watch and still no sign of the young man._

_She didn't have to look back to know that it was her eight-year-old nephew who had just walked in the restaurant. She was certain it was him - one of the employees commented on the newest arrival's poor-looking state._

_"I'm sorry kid, you're not allowed -"_

_"- He's with me," Adelle said, looking back._

_Lance smiled cheekily and strode to his aunt. His hair was a mess, chronically out of place, and his plaid shirt had some small smudges of blood - even his jeans had two holes in the knees. He sat at the chair across from hers. "Sorry I'm late."_

_"Where in the bloody hell have you been?" The boy ran his hand across his forehead, brushing some hair off his face, and showing her the cut right over his eyebrow. "Marcus again I presume?" she added nonchalantly._

_"Bingo," Lance replied, also in a very unflappable tone._

_The waitress approached their table, ready to take their order._

_"I want a fry-up," Lance looked up at the waitress, "Get me all the good stuff."_

_"I'll just get a Caesar salad," Adelle said, forcing a smile while handing the menu back to the waitress._

_The woman nodded her head and walked over to the counter to submit their orders._

_"But tell me, how are you doing?" she resumed the conversation._

_Lance had always loved his birthday, but only when he lived at the orphanage – very strange, yes, but he had his motives. Now that he was going to the States with his new family, the only member he knew of his biological family would no longer visit him. His aunt, his nameless aunt, told him he'd have a family that would look after him, so they'd no longer need to meet to celebrate his birthday. Back in London, she always bought him a warm meal and chatted with him for a while. It was the best part of his birthday. Adelle never revealed her name to her nephew because she knew that would put him in harm's way. She never even wanted to know her nephew's name; for her, whenever they met, he was "the young man"._

_Soon the waitress returned with their orders. Lance's eyes lit up as he saw a plate filled with fried goodies, from back bacon, to eggs, to tomatoes and mushrooms. He also had a couple pieces of toast with butter, sausages and baked beans, and a generously large mug of tea. The boy stuffed his mouth with everything he could, working hard to chew the huge mouthful of food._

_"Where are your manners, young man?"_

_"I live in an orphanage," he mumbled between mouthfuls, "there's no room for manners. I fight to get a hot meal."_

_"I am well aware of that, but now you have a meal that is solely for yourself. Do you have to chew with your mouth open and eat like a pig?"_

_"I'm starving!"_

_"Well, you might choke eating like that."_

_Lance giggled and Adelle couldn't resist smiling. He was defiant, a slacker and cheeky but she liked him. How could she not? Adelle really hoped someone would adopt him and get him out of her life for his protection, away from any problems her relation to him may put him through._

_From an early age, Lance learned that he couldn't have his biological family: his mother had died during birth, he had an unknown father, and his aunt, well, she worked for Rossum. He knew about her job, but didn't know exactly what she did for them. He also knew that working for such a multi-billion dollar corporation wasn't easy. Adelle couldn't look after her nephew and work for Rossum; it was too risky, and she was always too busy. And she couldn't exactly willingly resign from her job to take care of him. The cost of resigning from Rossum always came in the form of a hitman._

* * *

Lance woke up, feeling light kicks against his foot, "Wake up, kid."

He opened his eyes and squinted, trying to get his bearings. He was sitting on a bathroom floor, his back leaning against the wall, and once he tried to move his right hand, the handcuffs let out a harsh clanking sound, tugging on his wrist. He was cuffed to the washbasin's pipes.

As the boy looked up at his captor, the man tossed the New York Times onto his lap, "Who are you?"

"I'm not gonna hurt you, kid. Just pick up the newspaper and look at me."

Lance grabbed the newspaper, his attention immediately drawn to the date. It stated that it was the 22nd. He didn't know what time it was but he had been knocked out for some long hours he was sure; long enough that he had been unconscious all night. Holding the newspaper against his chest, the man snapped a photo of Lance and then took the newspaper from him.

"I'll get you something to eat. I'll be right back," the man said, closing the door.

Lance exhaled and rested back against the wall. Screaming would not be effective or useful, so he remained quiet, waiting for something to happen. The man returned after a while with a pizza box and a soda can.

"Hope you like these," he said, placing both things down on the floor, relatively close to Lance.

Then he left again, the bathroom sinking into sharp blackness. Lance pondered whether or not he should eat, but his stomach growling kind of forced him to eat. And so he ate, not even pausing his actions to wonder why the soda can was already open. After a few slices of pizza and a couple big gulps of the lemon flavored soda, Lance's world began spinning around. Only then he realized maybe it was a mistake to drink from the already open can. They had slipped a sedative substance into the can, and so Lance fell asleep again.

He woke up hours later, a blend of voices talking entering his ears. As he sat up and tried to regain his bearing again, he heard a woman talking. Her voice sounded familiar.

"Let me talk to him," a woman's voice spoke from outside the door.

Lance stopped breathing for a moment there and turned his eyes towards the door, even if he couldn't see anything. The woman's British accent was undeniable, her mellow but stern voice… it was his aunt. Her heels let out a click-clack sound as she strode along the tiled hall. Light crept into the bathroom and slowly Adelle's figure was perceptible. She was still the same, even though Lance hadn't seen her in three years, she still wore the same businesswoman clothes: a blouse tucked inside her pencil skirt, high heels. Her brown hair still smoothly fell down around her shoulders in impeccable waves.

"Young man -" she said softly.

"Do not call me that!" Lance spat out, "It's because of you that I'm here. You're as guilty as they are."

Adelle let out a sigh and walked in, leaving the door just open enough to shed some light into the room.

"You came to check on how I'm doing? Let me tell you, I'm not doing well, Auntie dear," he snorted, and moved his right hand until the metal handcuff clanked harshly against the pipes.

"I know this is my fault. I'll talk to them, comply with their orders and ask for your release. I do not know if they will let you go, though."

"Ah, and what do you care if I get out of here or not? It'd be way better for you if I didn't get out of here at all, wouldn't it?"

"Everything I did, everything I hid from you, was to protect you." The woman stooped down before her nephew and cupped his face with one hand, stroking his cheek with her thumb, "I am deeply sorry for all of this, love."

Lance turned his face away, shaking off her hand, "I'm better off alone."

"That does seem to be something that runs in this family's blood. We are all lone wolves."

The boy was quiet for a little, mulling on those words until he asked, "If I try to leave, will you stop me?"

"No," Adelle stood up and walked to the door, grasping the doorknob in her hand. She told him without looking back, "But they will."

That was the last time Lance ever saw his aunt. The door closed, darkness prevailing in the bathroom again, and the sound of her heels clicking fell quieter until it dissipated. Lance was left to his own fate, and he had to break out of there alone. The Rossum men wouldn't let him walk away, and it was not like Mom and Dad's SHIELD could locate him. This was one big corporation against one big agency; they were playing the same kind of game, so he was sure that Rossum had done its best to keep him in a remote location where a secret law enforcement agency couldn't find him.

Lance got to his feet and began kicking the plumbing, hoping that he could break the pipes and free his hand. However, he was sure that the sound and the water gushing out the door would alert the Rossum men. If he could defend himself, maybe he could attract their attention to the bathroom while he'd seek for a place to hide. Sneaking out of the building would be easier by then. Hours of playing first-person shooter games would help too.

After a few kicks, water shot out of the now broken pipe and drenched his pants, but much to the boy's luck, the pipe broke in two. One bigger metal tube piece went out flying all the way to the door. He rushed to pick it up, wielding it in his left hand. The handcuffs were still hanging from his wrist, and that proved to be another advantage for Lance. He fit his right hand around the loosened metal ring, turning the restraining device into an improvised set of brass knuckles. When the first man appeared to check on the boy, seeing a pool of water flowing from under the door, he was assaulted by a punch to the ribs with the metal ring and then was smacked in the head with the pipe. He fell unconscious and Lance ran, sprinting through the white halls, his sneakers rubber soles squeaking against the tiled floor.

He hid inside the storage room, hearing two sets of heavy steps marching right outside the door. Lance swallowed hard and waited until there was no noise to ease open the door and poke his head out, checking for movement. He stepped out of the room and walked in quick steps towards the white door by the end of the hall. His hand was already grasping the door's handle when he noticed that there was another door to his right, a door that led to the staircase. He went through that door instead, climbing down flights and flights of stairs.

There wasn't any sound, no surveillance he could see, and not even a living soul seemed to be around. Lance wasn't too worried about that. He ran down the staircase until he reached the bottom level and met another door. Taking in a few breaths, Lance opened the door, entering a big, but empty, garage. The entrance and exit door for the cars was open and he could see the sun shining out there in a cloudless sky. Without hesitation he ran across the garage and up the ramp; the sun warmed his skin, a soft breeze gently blew his hair and clothes. He was out. Wandering around the streets for a while, he finally made it downtown into the busy part of the city.

He was standing in the middle of Times Square, trying to hail a taxi, but none were stopping. So, Lance threw himself in front of a cab. The driver hit the brakes at the right moment, but the boy's hands still clapped against the car's hood.

The cabbie honked and put his head out the window, shouting angrily, "You're nuts, kid!"

Lance climbed into the backseat of the cab, and ordered the cab driver, "Take me to the police. I'm a long way from home."

* * *

The sun was setting quickly. At the Coulson's house there was a frenzy of activity. Coulson and May were on the phone every five minutes, following every lead to solve Lance's kidnapping and to get him back. The kids were worried; they all wanted to help, but they didn't know how.

The phone rang, and Coulson rushed to pick up the call, "Hello?"

"Is this the Coulson's house?"

"Yes, it is. Do y -"

"I'm Detective Walsh of the 17th precinct. I've got your son here with me. He's alright, do not worry."

"Thank goodness," Coulson sighed, relieved, "My wife and I are on the way there. Thank you, Detective."

"Just doing my job."

Right after Coulson hung up he turned to wife, "Lance is at the 17th precinct, he's ok. I'll call Mimi to stay with the kids -"

May continued, already knowing what she'd be doing, "I'll call SHIELD and tell them to take over the case."

Coulson and May had been looking for Lance for two days already, and they had considered all options. Maybe he could have been kidnapped by some lunatic, but maybe he could have also have been kidnapped by someone who held a grudge against either of them regarding their line of work. Whatever the motive for Lance's abduction, Coulson and May were considering covering their bases even more than they had been doing so far; they were supposed to keep their kids safe.

* * *

In the precinct, Coulson and May were guided to the break room where Lance waited, accompanied by Detective Walsh. Lance looked at them and smiled. May froze by the door, her heart thumping hard against her ribcage. Coulson walked to the boy and lifted him off his feet. Lance wrapped his arms around his father's neck and looped his legs around his waist.

"You're doing alright, kiddo?"

"I'm ok," Lance admitted.

"Ma'am?" Detective Walsh asked May, "you're feeling alright?"

When May joined SHIELD, she didn't expect have to care for and worry about six people – seven if she counted Phil. She didn't sign up for that. She sighed and looked at the Detective, "I am now."

Coulson put Lance down on his feet and watched him walk to May. He wrapped his arms around her middle and hugged her tightly, hiding his face in her stomach. May rested her hand on his shoulder and stroked his hair. As soon as he released her and took a few steps back, May noticed a bruise in his wrist.

"What happened? Were you hurt?" she asked, concerned.

"I was handcuffed to a washbasin. It's alright," he stared down at his feet, then asked, "Can you get me something to eat?"

"Sure."

"There's a vending machine just around the corner," Walsh pointed.

May looked at Coulson and he gave her a short nod, assuring her he'd talk with the Detective. Coulson ended up having to tell the Detective that he and May were law-enforcement agents and that they hadn't reported Lance's disappearance to the police because they were taking care of the issue. While sitting on the chairs in one of the station's halls, May chose not to ask him anything about the kidnapping, preferring to simply watch Lance devour chips and candy bars. Those weren't the best things for Lance to eat but he did seem to be starving.

Soon enough Lance was cleared to return home. His siblings all seemed pleased to see him, each one manifesting it on his or her own way. Mimi was also glad to see the boy safe and sound back at home. Coulson led all the kids upstairs, tucking them all to their beds, hoping to finally get some rest. Lance stepped in his bedroom slowly, as if he didn't know the place anymore. He sat at the edge of his bed and Coulson walked in after him.

"I think you should get some sleep. It's been a few rough days."

Lance nodded, starting to strip off his shirt when he commented, "These clothes stink."

Coulson gave him a small smile and walked to the chest of drawers. He got out a T-shirt, a pair of sweatpants and a pair of underwear for Lance. He gave them to him and asked, "Why don't you go and change clothes and when you're ready to come to bed you tell me and your mother? We'll be downstairs, alright?"

"Alright," he nodded again and took the clothes, marching to the bathroom.

Coulson made his way to the living room where May was, staring at her phone, waiting for her husband to join her. He served himself a bit of whiskey and flopped down on the couch.

"Just got a call from SHIELD," she told him.

"And? What did they say?"

"A woman called HQ, said her name was Adelle DeWitt. She also said Lance had been kidnapped by people from the Rossum Corporation."

"The Rossum Corporation? The ones that are the world's largest manufacturer of MRI machines?"

May nodded her head, "And the ones with the worldwide diagnostic medical laboratories."

"What does all of this have to do with Lance?"

"DeWitt is a lab researcher for them at London. And she also happens to be Lance's aunt."

"What?" Coulson almost choked on his drink, "There was nothing on the files -"

"I know. And that's why she called SHIELD. She wants that information to be added to Lance's profile so that he doesn't get put in harm's way again because of her job."

Coulson sighed, acknowledging that rationale, "That's why he's not saying a word about the kidnapping and that's why he seems unaffected by it. He knows about his aunt and he doesn't want to get her in trouble."

"Well, whether he knows about her or not, he still has to undergo a few sessions with a psychologist, even if he says he's fine. There's no way someone goes through something traumatic like that and doesn't come out of it changed."

"I'm not traumatized. I'm fine, actually," Lance admitted, standing at the top of the stairs. He fell quiet for a while before saying, "I'm just tired of people thinking that they are keeping secrets from me for my safety. I don't need protection. I've always been better off alone."

"We don't keep secrets from you, Lance," Coulson said.

"Oh, you don't?" the boy interjected, walking down the stairs, "You don't keep secrets from me, Agent Coulson? What about you, Agent May," he looked at his mother, "no secrets either?"

"For how long -"

Lance cut his father's question short, "For a long time. Saw your badges on the drawer; saw the guns, the Tasers -"

"Why the hell do you pick locks around the house, Lance?" May was furious now, her blood boiling, "You don't trust us?"

He looked down, choosing not to answer that question, replying instead with something else, "I've always depended on myself, but it's funny how I've always had people lying to me, claiming that they wanted to keep me safe when I was better off not even having met those people. I don't need protection. In fact, I don't even think I needed to be adopted. After all, I was the worst kid in that orphanage, wasn't that how they labeled me?" Lance was ready to head upstairs again when he turned to ask something else – a question that he wished was rhetorical, "Why did you adopt me really? Was it pity or did the Agency tell you to adopt me?"

May stood up and walked to him, "We adopted you because we saw great potential in you. Do you know what you'd have become if you were still living in London, stealing wallets for some man to forge documents? You'd be a mercenary. Do you know what you can be if you trust us? A _good_ mercenary. All you have to do is shut your mouth every once in a while, listen and follow orders. If you want to be trusted, you have to prove you can be trusted."

"At least I don't keep secrets from anyone."

"You don't? Are you sure?" Coulson got up from the couch and stood next to his wife, "What about your aunt? You knew about her. We would have never known, but it never crossed your mind to tell us about her, did it?"

"She has a risky job," Lance argued, "Just like you two have. It's not like I'd go around and announce to everyone -"

"See? Now you're the one who's in favor of keeping secrets to protect others," May retorted, "You can't be so quick to judge others. You had better start listening, Lance, because life out there isn't a playground, and it certainly isn't a Nintendo game. And that's the thing you haven't grasped yet. No one is better off alone. No one."

Lance stared the two down for a few seconds and then mumbled, "Good night."

"Good night," Coulson and May said in unison and watched him climb up the stairs and walk to the bedroom.

* * *

Coulson and May were lying awake in bed, both staring absently at the ceiling. He asked, "Still think it isn't necessary to put some sort of tracker device on the kids?"

"Yes. That kind of tracker has to be under their skin and we're not going to cut a hole in their necks to put a piece of metal inside them."

"It could save us -"

The door opened slightly. Both Coulson and May raised their heads to see Lance standing there.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course," His father kicked back the bed sheets and sat on the edge of the bed, "Something's wrong?"

Lance didn't answer. He climbed onto the bed and crawled to the space between his parents, lying down there, facing up too, "Did you look for me while I was gone?"

"We did," May told him, "We don't sleep for two days. We chased down every lead, and we'd have continued to do so until we'd found you."

"I'm sorry. For being an idiot earlier."

Coulson lightly tapped the boy's chest, "You should get some sleep, Lance."

He nodded but whispered before closing his eyes, "Thank you."

Even more than being sorry for the things he'd done, Lance was grateful that they still cared for him.

Coulson and May were already drifting off to sleep when Lance's voice woke them, "Since I was kidnapped and all, do I still have to go to school tomorrow?"

The man chuckled silently, "We'll see, Lance."

"Now zip your mouth and sleep," May added.

* * *

**Ok, so there was another universes mash up. Obviously the Dollhouse and the MCU 'verses can't mash up totally because of characters/actors conflict (Reed Diamond, Amy Acker, Dichen Lachman, Enver Gjokaj), but it's still totally possible that I assume as canon that Olivia Williams' character in Dollhouse, Adelle DeWitt, can be Lance Hunter's aunt and work for Rossum Corporation.**

**Next chapter: Papa Cal shows up to visit Skye. It'll be the Daddys' dispute all over again and like how it happened on the show, it's Grant who'll get Skye and Cal in the same room.**


	22. Help!

**I'm sorry for the delay. I always try to post a new chapter every week but college is keeping me busy, I don't have any more chapters written in advance and I have two fanfictions in progress so it gets a bit hard to keep track of everything. Even when my inspiration collaborates, it gets a bit hard. But, as long as you enjoy the chapters, I'm alright.**

**So, this chapter is very dramatic, just to give you a heads up. It is result of a ****mash up of different prompts sent to me by: Salkri Kachemench, memorysdaughter**, **Red and starfire25.**

* * *

Jemma poked her head into the bedroom and saw Skye lying down in her bed. "Dad is making peanut butter sandwiches. Do you want one?"

Skye shook her head and grumbled, clutching her stomach, "Not hungry."

The older girl walked in and closed the door behind her, "What's wrong? Are you hurt, Skye?"

"And I'm really cold."

Pressing her hand against Skye's forehead, Jemma said, "You have a fever. I should get D -"

"No," Skye wailed, grabbing her sister's hand. "I'm good."

"You're holding your belly and you're feverish. You're not alright."

Skye rolled over in bed so she was lying face up, and lifted her shirt, "Does my belly look strange?"

"It's swollen," Jemma told her, staring at the abnormal bump on Skye's abdomen. "It could be an inflammation of the appendix. You need to go to the doctor."

"No!" the younger girl firmly said, "No doctors."

"But Skye -"

"No! Doctors are mean."

"You are sick."

"No!"

Despite Skye's resistance, Jemma ran out the door to warn her mom and dad about her sister's sickness. Skye got up and tried to stop Jemma but a pain shot up in the lower part of her abdomen and she fell on her knees, groaning in pain. Coulson was in the girls' bedroom seconds later and immediately grabbed his little girl in his arms.

"Jemma, I need you to go and call Mimi to stay here with all of you," he sat on the edge of the bed, sitting Skye on his lap. Jemma was still standing in front of him, "Can you please go -"

"I wanna go to the doctor too."

"We'll take care of that when you're back," Coulson answered. There was no point in arguing with her at that moment; right now he really needed Jemma to go call the neighbor.

Skye's eyes filled with tears, "No doctors, Dad."

He stroked her hair, "We have to go to the doctor, baby. Your belly is too swollen and you're too warm." He pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Mom will be there with us, alright?"

Mimi was at the Coulson's minutes later, assuring the man that she'd keep an eye on the kids as he'd go to the hospital. However, she'd only have to keep an eye on the boys; Jemma insisted she wanted to go and Coulson couldn't waste time discussing that decision.

* * *

May was half way to the hospital when Coulson called her. The doctor had just diagnosed Skye with appendicitis and she needed to go home and grab a bag with Skye's clothes. When May arrived the hospital she was a mess: tired, her back and head ached, and she felt the urge to throw up. Her only thought was to rush to Coulson and Jemma and wait with them for Skye to come out of the ER.

"Mommy," Jemma jumped down from Coulson's lap and ran to May.

"C'mere," May reached down to grab Jemma under her arms and pick her up but as soon as she bent down her back ached.

She pressed her hand against the wall for extra support. Coulson ran the few steps to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, helping her taking a seat.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, _qīnàide_?"

"I'm alright. It was just a strong ache in my back. How is -"

Coulson didn't let her ask anything, "That's it, I'm calling a nurse to examine you."

"Phil -"

"Don't," he was firm on his answer but concerned, "you've been feeling sick for far too long."

He walked around the floor, requesting each nurse he saw to come and examine May. Finally he encountered one that was available and so Coulson led the woman back to his wife.

But May was still reluctant with the idea, "I'm feeling alright now. Besides, I need to be here right now. Skye is in the operation room and Jemma is scared."

"Melinda…"

That was all she needed to get up from the chair, transfer Jemma to her husband's arms, and walk with the nurse to an examination room. Coulson was feeling terribly nervous, but he kept cool on the outside as he rocked Jemma in his arms until she snoozed. Minutes later May was walking back to them and he saw her folding a paper and putting in her pocket. Coulson's anxiety shot up.

"What did the nurse say?" Coulson asked in a hurry. He gently put Jemma on the chair beside his and got up.

"Well, I've this unexpected tenant inside me," she walked to him, her smile growing as she grabbed his hand and placed it over her stomach. "He or she should be arriving in seven months, give or take a couple weeks."

Coulson's eyes focused on where his hand was stroking her abdomen with his thumb. When he looked up at her he had a special type of smile May had never seen on his face before.

He snaked his arms around her waist and brought her close for a kiss, "I can't believe it."

"Me neither. I thought these were menopause symptoms."

"We're having a baby," he was still stunned, eyes glistening, grinning like a fool.

"And it can move already. I don't feel it yet, but I saw a little blur moving on the screen." May pecked his lips and rested her forehead on his, "Are you ready to hear my mother's comments about how come it took you twelve years to knock me up?"

"You can tell her that we were just playing safe, it's not that my junk doesn't work. Children are always a blessing but we already have six of those at home. Just in case she forgot about that little detail." There was a small silence before he remembered the paper he saw her folding away, "What was that paper the nurse gave you? Any medication?"

"Ultrasound appointment for next week. The doctor will give us more details on all of this," she smirked. "We've got six kids, but we've never been through this."

"No we haven't. But I'm looking forward to it. And when do we tell the kids?"

"I'm already nine weeks long, so I guess we can wait until we know the gender to tell them. It's only a few more weeks for that."

Jemma stirred in the chair and opened her eyes slowly. "Where is Skye?" she promptly asked.

"She's almost out of surgery, sweetheart," Coulson assured her, kissing the top of her head, "Skye is alright. It was just appendicitis, you know that."

The girl shrugged and looked towards the doors where Skye had been led for the surgery, "I should have known earlier."

"Hey, where is this coming from? Jemma," May stooped down next to the girl, stroking her hair, "you are not a doctor. You are still a child, baby girl. Leave these things to adults to take care of, alright?"

"But what if it was something worse than appendicitis? I couldn't help her 'cause I'm dumb," she pouted, chastening herself, still mulling over the same thoughts.

"Dumb?" Coulson took a seat on the chair next to the girl's, "Jem, you are the smartest girl that I've ever met. One day, you too will be a doctor. You know why I know that? Because you are smart and you have a big heart and you care about everyone. But you don't have - you can't worry this much. Not right now. It's not your responsibility. You are still too young to carry these responsibilities, do you understand? Don't punish yourself over this. We are all entitled to do the little bit we can do, and you helped Skye. More than you are letting yourself believe. You warned me that Skye was in pain. If you didn't tell me, then things could have been a lot worse. You know that Skye would have never said if she was hurt. She always tries to play brave. You helped so much, Jemma. You did your share, now go back to being a little girl."

Jemma wrapped her arms around Coulson's neck and hugged him tightly. Over the girl's shoulder, Coulson saw his wife letting out a relieved sigh.

"You know what Skye will need?" May asked, taking a seat. Jemma immediately turned her head to her mother. The woman smiled, "She'll need her big sister keeping her company, distracting her. She won't want you to be all sad looking."

"And she'll also need her brothers," Coulson said as he got up. "I'm going to get the boys and bring them here. Are my girls going to be alright?"

"I've got Mommy," Jemma admitted, crawling onto May's lap.

"That's right. We'll be fine, Phil. Go get the boys."

* * *

Lance and Grant were the guardians of the family at the moment. Skye had already woken up after the surgery, hours before, but the anesthesia was keeping her drowsy so she fell asleep again. Mom was sleeping on the chair next to her bed, sleeping. She looked really tired and drained out, just like Dad. He was flopped down on a chair in the hall, nodding off with Jemma on his lap, cuddling her against his chest, and Trip had his arm draped over Leo and the two slept as well. Only Lance and Grant were awake. An Asian nurse with some scars on her face was looking through the glass door of the room where Skye was sleeping. The two boys looked at her attentively, hoping that everything would be alright. Another nurse joined her.

"What happened to the girl?" the woman with scars asked.

"Appendicitis. She was brought in at the right time. She'll be alright."

The Asian woman smiled as the other walked away, "Your father would like to know you're alright."

Lance and Grant's ears perked up even more at that last sentence. They already knew that Skye was going to be alright, the doctor had told them that earlier. The nurse wasn't walking their way and that made the boys' suspicions arise. "The father" that nurse mentioned wasn't their dad. So, who was he?

"We should check that out," Lance whispered. "She doesn't seem like she's up to something good. Didn't Mom say that Skye's dad went nuts?"

The younger one nodded. "I'll follow her."

Grant got to his feet and began walking after the woman. After following her through numerous corridors, the boy stopped before the doors that said 'Psychiatric Ward'. He looked around, noticing that no one was around. There were only white, long, cold halls. Did he really want to get past those doors? He had to, for Skye's wellbeing. He just really wished Lance was there with him too; he'd feel safer and braver. But nonetheless, he entered. Grant caught a glimpse of the nurse talking to a man sitting at a chair by the window, and began walking to them. His young heart was scared as he looked around and saw people mumbling things, all acting strangely scary. They were all insane and he was sure he'd be having nightmares because of them.

"Jiaying!" he shouted as the woman started to walk away from his side.

She backed away a few steps, "I shouldn't have told you a thing, Cal."

"We need to get our baby girl back."

"For all intents and purposes, I'm dead and you're insane. Our baby girl is better with that family."

Jiaying wiped a tear and sighed heavily as she walked away to attend to other patients. She could feel inside of her that their daughter was close to them, closer than ever, but she was choosing to ignore that feeling. It hurt her to make such a choice but she knew Daisy was better with that family. They were there for her, to care for and protect her. Grant approached the man slowly and stared down at him. His eyes were dull, staring at the sky as he hummed the words of 'Daisy Bell'. He looked like he had just crawled out of a dumpster. His hair was long and disheveled and all of attire was wrinkled. He wore brown suit trousers, a short-sleeved light-blue shirt and a brown tie.

"They took my baby girl away from me," the man commented, having spotted Grant who fearfully stood by his side, "and now they won't let me see her. I know she's here, in the hospital. But they don't let me see her."

Grant's words came out quietly as he could barely find his voice, "What's her name?"

"Daisy. How old are you, little man?"

"T-ten."

"Ah. Daisy is slightly younger. She should be seven by now. She was born on July 2nd, on this hot summer night. My wife, she," he chuckled, "she decided to clean the house before waking me. When she did so, I went over to the neighbor's house to borrow their car to take them to the hospital. You see," he looked at Grant, "no one in the village had a car but that neighbor. But, I didn't speak any Chinese so it was a mess."

"Did you get the car?"

"I did not. We didn't understand each other so I ended up delivering our baby girl myself. She was… beautiful, perfect. And they took her away from me!" the man shouted, causing Grant to step back. "I'm sorry," he smiled, going back into his calm posture. When he tried to hold the boy's wrist, Grant jerked his hand away, "I'm sorry for yelling. I lose control a little bit too quickly. I'm – I'm Cal," he introduced himself, stretching his hand towards Grant.

Slowly Grant slipped his hand into the man's and gave him a handshake, "Grant."

"Tell me Grant, what are you doing here? This is not a place for children your age."

"I, uh…" he looked down at his feet, "The nurse is your wife, isn't she?"

Cal chuckled, "Good skills, kid. You're smarter than any doctor in this hospital. No one noticed that before. And they can't ever know or else they might take her away too. You see, she helps me as she helps the other people here. She's not treating me better just because I'm her husband."

Grant shortly nodded in agreement and dreadfully began, "I'm here because… Daisy… What if… what if Daisy is with good people?"

"Good people?" Cal stared Grant with wide open eyes, "You think a child should grow up away from their parents? You think the people who took her away are good people?"

The boy swallowed a lump in his throat, looking up at Cal, "The ones who took her away are bad. But maybe she is with -"

"You know where she is," Cal realized, "You are her brother. Take me to see her."

The boy was conflicted: would he really take Cal to meet Skye? She had a family now. If he loved her that much he should have tried harder to protect her. But then again, maybe he did try everything and still couldn't keep her safe. How bad would it be if he guided Cal to Skye's room and let him see her? He'd never see again in his life.

"I… My parents are there."

"Let's do it like this: you go ahead and you tell me if it's safe for me to go. Then you call me, alright?"

Grant still thought that that was not a good idea but he sighed and warned Cal, "You better not hurt her."

"Hurt her?" Cal got up from the chair, putting on his brown jacket, "She's my little Daisy -"

"Her name is Skye."

"Terrible name, but I can live with that. If that's what she responds to, then I'll call her Skye. Go on, lead the way."

The two managed to sneak out of the psychiatric ward. Cal followed the boy and once they reached the hall where Skye's room was, Grant ordered him to stay back while he checked the movement in the room. Luckily Lance was sleeping now too, so he wouldn't ask questions. Grant peered through the door and then stepped inside quietly.

May woke up once she felt a presence in the room and unintentionally startled the boy, "Something wrong, Grant?" she asked, sitting up in her chair.

"N-no, nothing's wrong. I was just…"

May sighed and beckoned to him. Grant walked to her side and she pulled him to sit on her lap, "I know it's hard to get some rest in here, but you should try to sleep. In the morning your father is taking you home."

"And when is Skye going home?"

"As soon as the doctors say she can go. Can you do me big a favor, Grant?" the boy dutifully nodded his head, "Can you keep an eye on Skye for a while? I really need to go to the bathroom and I know your father is sleeping. I don't want to awake him."

"I will keep her safe."

May pressed a kiss onto Grant's hair and got up, "That's a good boy. I'll be right back."

Grant waited until May was out of sight to poke his head out the doorway and signal Cal. The man crossed the hall quickly and walked into the room. He walked to Skye with teary eyes, gazing the little girl with a large patch on her small abdomen and an IV on the back of her right hand.

"Oh my baby girl, look at you," he stood by the side of her bed and held her hand in his. "You're so big."

The boy kept checking between the door, for any sign of May returning, and Cal, since he didn't trust the man that much. Cal stroked Skye's hair and was talking to her in a low tone of voice when her eyes fluttered open. She immediately gasped in panic at the sight of the unknown man. Skye tried to sit up in bed but the pain in her lower abdomen made her fall back in bed.

"Hey, it's alright," Grant reassured her, rubbing her arm. "It's ok, I'm here."

"Grant?" Skye said in a frail voice, "who's this man?"

"Yes Grant, who is this man?" May asked by the door, arms crossed over her chest.

Both Grant and Cal looked at the door and while the boy was scared stiff and essentially mute, Cal was dexterously removing Skye's IV, using only one hand. Skye had her eyes focused on what the man was doing but she didn't know what to do. Besides, she was still drowsy from the anesthesia so she couldn't do anything.

"Wait outside, Grant," May ordered, pointing the way out the door. "And you, step away from my daughter."

"She's my daughter!" Cal shouted, "And you took her away from me."

Grant was already shaking Coulson to awake him up. He didn't need to insist much because Cal's shouting was enough to wake up the whole family. Coulson sat Jemma at a chair and walked in the room to ascertain what the fuss was all about.

"What did you do?" Lance asked, gazing Grant.

"I screwed up."

Trip hugged Grant when he began sobbing and crying, "Hey, it's alright. Whatever happened Mom and Dad will fix it."

Something broke inside the room and Coulson started shouting at the top of his lungs at Cal. Lance looked around; there wasn't any nurse around to stop whatever was happening inside so he ordered Leo to go look for one as he walked into the room. May was passed out on the ground after having been pushed head against the footboard of the bed and Coulson was lying motionless on the floor being kicked to the stomach, blood dripping from his mouth already.

Cal was crushing Skye against his chest, whispering soothing words to her, "It's alright, Daisy. Dad will take you home."

"Lemme go," Skye cried. "Don't hurt Mommy and Daddy."

"I'm your Daddy, sweetheart. He stole you from me."

"Let her go!" Lance yelled, positioning himself in front of the door so that Cal couldn't leave.

Lance was thrown away with one easy push but he didn't make it to the door with Skye. Jemma kicked him in between the legs, which stopped him. Grant picked up Skye in his arms and carried her to her bed, then tended to his unconscious mother. Outside the room, all the kids were on top of Cal, jabbing him in the back with their fists and knees. Coulson pulled himself up from the floor and ordered the kids to let go of the man. He was a man blinded by fury and he didn't hesitate to beat up Cal. They were separated by the security personnel and Jiaying showing up to take Cal away.

"Mr. Johnson, let's go. You've caused enough trouble."

"Zabo. My name is Calvin Zabo!" he tried to fight the men that held him, "They took my daughter away from me! Let me go…" After they stuck him a syringe, Cal began drowsing and was out in seconds flat.

Coulson barely let the nurses tend to his injuries. His thoughts were on his kids – Skye was in complete shock, and so were all the others – and on May who had just regained consciousness but instead of checking if things were alright with the baby, she was trying to comfort Skye, who was begging to be taken home and wouldn't stop crying. Coulson replaced May in the role of keeping Skye company while his wife went to do an ultrasound. When she returned, all the kids were in the room, scared and sullen. And they were all quiet too; none of them even said a word.

"So?" Coulson turned to his wife as soon as she entered the door, feeling his heart pulsing too fast.

"We're alright."

He pulled her into a hug and kissed her head, "At least some good news."

May glanced over Coulson's shoulder and saw Skye sleeping, "How is she?"

He parted the hug to tell her, "She wants to go home. The doctor signed the discharge papers so we'll leave in the morning right after she wakes up."

"Why don't you take them home?" May suggested, looking at their kids. "I'll stay with Skye and take her home in the morning."

Coulson nodded in agreement but pointed out, "I can't take them all."

"Leave Jemma and Grant. She's been too worried about Skye and I have a feeling that Grant will want to have a lengthy talk with me about what happened."

Grant looked down as he heard those words. He was really sorry for what happened. Cal had managed to scare Skye (he was the reason for Skye's nightmares for the next two weeks), hurt Coulson and May and had almost sent their father to jail for involving himself in a fight against a psychiatric patient.

Coulson put a kiss on Skye's forehead and then kissed his wife, "Take care, alright? Anything happens and you call me right away."

"We'll be fine now."

* * *

**Things will be smoother and happier next chapter. Coulson and May will tell the kids that they are expecting a baby and they'll all discuss baby names. I don't plan to spend too much time stalling the birth of the baby as I have other chapters planned and I reeally want to age up the kids a few years. Once the baby Philinda is born I should give you an update on all the kids ages. **


	23. Choices

**After you read this chapter, go to my profile and vote on the poll to choose a name for the Philinda baby. But please, read this first so that you understand from where the name suggestions come from.**

* * *

Coulson and May were greeted at home by screams and gunshots. Grant was running around the house, begging for help as Skye chased after him, firing all the Nerf darts she could at her brother. For once, someone was taking revenge on Grant. He was usually the one chasing after his siblings, firing foamed projectiles at them. The TV was awfully loud and they could only hear gunshots being fired; Trip and Lance were playing Halo 2.

"Lost the lead, gain the lead," the voice from the game said.

"Oh, c'mon," Trip whined, "I had just gained the lead."

"What is this? A battlefield?" Coulson commented, standing in the middle of the living room.

Mimi offered a small smile, "I suppose."

"Boys, lower the volume," May asked the two kids that were playing video games. They felt around the surface of the coffee table to find the remote control but kept their eyes glued to the screen. "Where are the other two?" the woman inquired of their neighbor once the living room was quieter.

"Downstairs."

"I'll get them to come up here for a while," Coulson said, walking to the basement's door.

That lower floor of the house was no longer just the basement. The paper sheet stuck on the door with duct tape read 'Fitzsimmons' Lab' in colorful letters. Jemma and Leo used part of the basement to conduct their humble experiences. They had thought of naming it Jemma &amp; Leo's Lab but Fitzsimmons' sounded better. Even though they had their own place to experiment, the two of them didn't always – ever, actually – agree on things. Usually Coulson and May would find them fighting with one another claiming that the other was occupying his or her space. So, as soon as their dad showed up to call them to go upstairs, the two had the same reaction: they raised their arms in the air and claimed in unison:

"We were not fighting!"

On the upper floor, May had just walked Mimi to the door and, after breaking Grant and Skye apart, she had confiscated another Nerf gun. She was amazed and confused at the fact that she had already taken away three toy guns from them. It seemed like those things just sprung up out of nowhere. The woman took a seat on one of the two armchairs and sat Skye on her lap. Grant sat on the couch right next to his older brothers and watched them play.

"Can you guys pause the game now? Your father and I want to talk to you."

"Mom," Lance began, "you can't pause these games."

"Back in my day, games had a pausing menu," May said sarcastically.

"Well, imagine that you're on a field mission and you decide to stop for some reason," he tore his eyes from the screen to look at her, "do you think the assignment would be paused just because you stopped?"

May had to give him that one, it was a fair point. "We still want to talk to you all."

"We're two minutes away from the end," Trip told her, "and I'm about to kick his butt."

Lance stared at the screen with his mouth open as the sound of a grenade filled the silence of the room. The virtual grenade blew and Lance's character died.

"You didn't just do that," the British boy said. Trip laughed. "You're a dick, Trip."

"Language!" May warned.

"Wha – but he was a dick," May intensified her gaze over him, "Sorry."

"No, don't," the mother said looking at Skye once she opened her mouth to ask something. "It's a bad word and your brother is lucky your grandmother isn't here. She'd make him wash his tongue with soap."

Coulson reentered the room with Jemma and Leo. He sat in the other armchair as the boy crawled up to his lap and his sister sat on the couch among her big brothers.

"So, why you want to talk to us?" Grant asked, looking between his parents.

The man took the lead, "We want to tell you that… we're welcoming a new person into this family, a seventh Coulson."

"Is it a girl?" Skye tilted her head back to look at May, "Please tell me it's a girl. There're so many boys already."

"Excuse you," Lance retorted, "If we're getting another girl that will mean that we'll have to listen to Frozen songs a million more times. You and Jemma singing "Let it Go" five hundred times a day is enough."

"We don't know yet if it is a boy or a girl," May spoke, putting an end to what would soon be a fight between siblings.

Leo frowned, "You're adopting a child and you don't if it's a boy or a girl? If that's so, why don't you adopt a monkey?"

Coulson chuckled, "We're not adopting. That's why we're having this conversation. Your mother is pregnant," All heads immediately turned to her. "We were going to find out today if we're having a boy or a girl but the baby had its back turned to the screen."

"Oh," Grant crooned, "so _that_ is why we're having this talk."

"What do you mean, Grant?" his father asked.

Lance looked at Coulson, stating what for them was obvious, "We're adopted and you're having a kid. A kid that is yours, not someone else's."

"Oh no, _this_ is exactly we wanted to having this conversation with you," May said. "All of you are the same to us, regardless of being biological or adopted. This baby will change a lot of things in this house but it won't change the way we treat each one of you."

There was silence in the house, something that was abnormal. The kids were looking between each other and their parents. A baby meant a great deal, and Coulson and May weren't expecting everyone to be on the same page right away. They knew that the kids would feel some repulsion automatically towards the newcomer and that they'd think they'd be set aside and not loved as much as the biological child.

"Alright, we were expecting this," Coulson admitted. "We know it's hard."

Trip shyly raised his hand, "How do I do it now? I can't look after them and a baby."

May smiled, "We've got that covered. We're going to offer Mimi the chance to become your nanny, at least while we're working. And we're going to reward you for taking care of your siblings so well all this time."

Trip coyly smiled and looked down.

"We're serious," his father assured him.

The teenager nodded his head and silence settled in again.

"Oh, come on, guys," Coulson spoke enthusiastically, "you all look like we've just told you that your hamster died."

"Cheeko died?" Jemma asked, her eyes widening in horror.

"No, sweetie. It was just a comparison. Although I don't know how it is still living. Anyway," he shook his head, "your mother and I thought of something. This baby will need a name and who better to help us with it than you all? We'll leave a paper on the fridge's door and each one of you will get the chance to pick one name for the baby. Then, since we are pro-democracy in this house, we'll go to voting to choose the baby's name once we know the gender."

"What's a democracy?" Skye asked.

"It's a system where everyone gets involved in the decision making," Jemma explained.

May left them with a warning, "Even though this is a democracy, I don't want any idiot names on the list, understood? You only get one suggestion, but if it's a stupid one you lose your chance of suggesting and voting."

"Is roly-poly chubby-cheeked pooping-machine a bad suggestion?" Lance smirked.

"Yes," she answered nonchalantly.

* * *

By the end of the week, the paper on the fridge door already had six names. The kids were all quick to make their suggestions, and Coulson just couldn't resist but take the piece of paper to their bedroom and show it to May. She was stepping out of the bathroom when they crossed paths. The disgusted expression on her face said 'I've been throwing up' before she could even get the words out. Her husband offered a small smile and placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing slow circles in an attempt to relieve her knotted muscles as they walked to the bedroom. May moaned quietly, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Keep doing that and my shoulders might not be the only thing you'll be touching tonight," she said.

Coulson smirked and raised a brow, pressing a kiss on the side of her neck, "That sex drive is shooting up like crazy."

"My whole hormones are going crazy. Be happy I still want you around. Some women don't even like their husbands coming near them." When she stopped to open the bedroom door, he stopped with his massage too, "And it's all just washing away."

"Really, that quickly?"

"You were working those fingers real good, you know?"

"I'll keep that in mind," he smirked and gave her the small piece of paper. "For now I wanted to show you this. When I was coming upstairs I realized there were six suggestions on the list already."

"There were only two yesterday," May pointed out, sitting in bed with her back resting against the headboard.

"That's why I brought the paper," he told her as he began taking off his suit.

May read the names, associating the calligraphy to each of the kids, "There's Wesley here. I think it's Jemma's handwriting."

Jemma actually wanted to suggest the name of an important scientist. She ended up settling on Wesley when she was watching TV and one investigator named Wesley was talking about his work. The girl liked how the name sounded.

"Skye suggested Margaret. That's… odd. I thought she'd be going for Frozen characters."

"I heard her and Jemma talking about it," Coulson said, turning to face his wife as he unbuttoned his shirt, "and they agreed they wouldn't go for Elsa, Anna, Hans or whatever the other characters are." May was staring him, not exactly paying attention to what he was saying, "Am I arousing you by taking off my shirt?"

"Yes," she closed her eyes and sighed, looking down at the paper again, "I think this is Grant's idea: Abigail."

Manny, Floyd or Ali were amazing names… for boxers. Grant really wanted his little brother to have a cool name, but eventually he realized that the baby could actually turn out to be a little girl. And if that was the scenario she'd need a suave but also strong name. Abigail sounded just right – that and because he didn't really know what else to suggest.

Coulson came to sit down in bed next to his wife, the two reading the paper. The only suggestions left were Trip's, Lance's and Leo's. The youngest boy wanted the baby to have a normal name. He was picked on at school just because his name was Leopold; his little sibling deserved a more normal name. But not something that common either. Leo considered reading a book on the issue because he didn't want to suggest something as vulgar as Matthew but also nothing that striking as Maverick. Therefore, he settled on, "Sebastian," Coulson read, "that's Leo's suggestion, not Lance's."

"Well, he and Lance do both have messy handwriting. But," May looked at her husband, "if Leo suggested Sebastian, then Lance came up with Juliette. And that's something amazing coming from him."

The man smiled, "I think it's because of my mother. He kept on asking me if I thought she'd be happy with the baby, so I guess he didn't want to blatantly write down Julie."

"Either ways, it was a nice choice. So that leaves Charles as Trip's idea."

"I think now we both get the chance to suggest something too. We're down to three boy names, and three girl names."

May nodded, "What do you have in mind?"

"Avalyn. And you? Thought of any name?"

"Phillip."

"Are you sure?" he asked, cocking his head.

"It's my choice, Phil. Each one of us gets to have a say and I say Phillip."

He grinned and leaned to her side, kissing her, "How about we…" he pecked her lips, "think of the baby names…" he kissed her again, "another time?"

May stretched her hand back, putting the paper sheet over the bedside table. She pulled him closer by wrapping her arms around his neck, "You know what you're doing, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then do it fast because… because this kid is making my hormones go crazy and I'm… needy," she admitted with a blush.

"Uhm," he hummed, pressing his body over hers, lying down on top of her, "I'll be _really_ slow. Just for the torture."

"Don't you dare, Phil," May warned sternly.

"It doesn't matter if that's what you want or not," he whispered into her lips, "I can control you tonight. And you want me _so _bad."

"Don't you dare torture me, Coulson. Don't. Be. Slow. I'm begging you."

"Give it a few more minutes and I'll give you something to beg about," he smirked, leaning in for a kiss.

* * *

**I asumed that now you're going to review and vote on the poll. I'll be good and give you a hint for what's to happen in the next chapter: Bad girl shenanigans. Skye and Jemma go to a university's dorm to... haha, you'll get to know next chapter! :)**


	24. Bad Girl Shenanigans

Jemma and Skye were feeling tired and defeated. The two of them were sitting on the sidewalk, under the rays of the scorching sun, their backpacks abandoned by their sides and their spirits low. The elementary school needed funding to be able to do some construction on the building. All students were asked to help. Pretty much everyone was going to sell cookies and even if the idea was already widely used, the two girls had agreed they'd be following the same fundraising method. But there was a problem: Mom wasn't that much of a cook, and even if she was, she was too pregnant by now to do anything. Dad talked about how Mom could go into labor any day now and that they should not upset her. Luckily Alice, one of Skye's classmates who happened to be a girl scout, had provided them with some cookies.

Then another problem had arisen: people hadn't bought their cookies. A couple people had, but others had dismissed them as kindly as they could. Jemma and Skye had already walked blocks and blocks in hopes of selling their cookies. So far they'd earned only $12 and swollen feet.

"We're never going to get money for the school," Jemma sadly vented, "and I can kiss my dreams of going to Cambridge goodbye."

"Hey, c'mon Jem, we're gonna get the money."

Jemma propped her elbows on her knees and supported her chin on the palm of her hands, "Maybe we should have been smarter about this…"

"Yeah, that's something only you can be."

Whatever Jemma said after, Skye didn't hear. She was observing and listening to what was happening in the house just across the street. A teenager was loading things into the trunk of an old, dented car. He was loading food, a lot of it, and his mother was helping him.

"I think I've got enough for two months," the teen said, looking back at his mother.

The woman smiled, "That is if you and your colleagues don't eat everything before the end of this week."

"Don't overreact, Mom. I know it's hard living at the dorms, but we don't eat like pigs, alright? This food should be enough for two months."

"Alright then," she placed her hand on her son's shoulder, "then come to say goodbye to your father and your sister before you go."

"New York isn't that far. And we can Skype almost every day," he pointed out.

"Come inside, Aaron," his mother insisted, pushing him ahead of her.

Skye's impish grin grew as she stood up in a jump. "Jem, let's go."

"Where?"

"With him."

Skye grabbed Jemma by the wrist and made her run the short distance to the old car. She opened the trunk and told her sister to get in. Even though Jemma was reluctant, the two ended up crumpling up in the trunk amongst the cargo.

* * *

Skye and Jemma met Aaron after some two hours of traveling. It was with great surprise and a few screams that they met each other. The poor guy flinched back with the scare as he opened the trunk and saw the two girls curled up in there.

"Hey, oh, wha – what the – what the hell?"

"Sorry for scaring you," Skye said with half a grin, climbing down out of the trunk.

"But thank you for the ride," Jemma added.

"What the hell is this? Wait… aren't you the kids of that couple that has lots of adopted kids?"

"Yeah," the younger one replied. "Anyway we gotta go. We have to sell cookies."

"Wait a freaking second," Aaron said, "What are you going to do here?"

"Skye heard you talk with your mom and noted that college students seem to encounter difficulties when it comes to food so we thought of, well, extorting" Jemma tried to think of a nicer word, but she was always very honest, "some students to gather the money that our school needs to undergo repair works."

Aaron snickered, "Well, good luck with that." He gestured to the dormitory building, affirming, "welcome to NYU Law's student dorms."

"We're doomed, aren't we?" Skye asked, looking at her sister.

"Not at all," Jemma smiled, "I excel at argumentation."

"But you're a terrible liar. We're screwed."

"I can help you two sneak inside," Aaron offered, "after that you are on your own. And one little warning," he turned and walked backwards as he spoke, "don't knock on doors that have a sock hanging on the doorknob."

* * *

The two girls walked around the building and experienced the same thing they did back at the neighborhoods near their house: either people would buy their cookies or dismiss them. Only, there at the dorms, they weren't so nice and some students just simply pushed them out the door. Jemma's confidence was slowly failing her as the minutes went by, even with Skye trying her best to cheer her up and pull her through the halls. A short, blond guy opened up the door after they knocked.

"Hello," Skye began, "we're here to sell cookies. All the money will be used to fix our elementary school."

"Uh, yeah, we don't actually need cookies. Try another dorm room."

Jemma's lip pouted – she had reached her breaking point. The girl began walking away and left her younger sister staring between her and the student.

"Jemma," Skye called out in vain, "Jem, wait."

There was no use calling her as she was pretty disappointed and embarrassed. Jemma walked in quick strides to the door and sat on the lawn, waiting for Skye to walk out the door so that they could leave the campus as soon as possible.

"What is going on?" another student showed up, the roommate of the first one that had opened up the door to them.

"Hey!" Skye reprimanded, pointing her finger at the two students, "why did you upset Jemma?"

"We didn't upset her, kid. We told you we didn't want to buy your cookies. She was the one that got upset. Nothing personal against you two, really."

Skye stared the ground for a while, and once she looked up, her eyes were watery, "Listen, Jemma really likes school. And she's super, super smart. I mean, she's being transferred to the 7th graders' class because she's that smart. And she's already saving up money for college. That's why this means a lot to her. If she can't go to school now then how will she be able to go to college later? She says she wants to be a bio…" the girl pondered on the word for a few seconds until she remembered it, "biochemist. You gotta help her be a biochemist."

"You're trying to sell us cookies to raise funds for your school, yet you're only talking on her behalf. You've got no college ambitions for yourself, kid?" the other guy asked, walking to the door and resting his forearm on the door frame.

She shrugged, "I'm just really good with computers. I don't think that there's a school for that."

"You could be a programmer."

"What do they do?"

The two teenagers looked at each other but the blond ended up answering, "They write computer software."

"Ah," the girl acknowledged, "I'm more into hacking. Hacking to do good things, alright?" Skye rushed to explain. "I -"

"Wait a second," one of them stopped her, waving his arms, "you can hack?"

"Yeah," she said as it was the most natural thing in the world.

The two students exchanged a look and then pulled Skye into their dorm room.

"I'm Tyler," the blond introduced himself; "this is my friend and roommate Jack. We'd like to offer you a deal."

Skye frowned, grabbing at the straps of her backpack, "What deal?"

"You see, we're about to fail Law 344. If you can change our grades we'll help you and your sister sell those cookies and make a small fortune. What do you say?"

"Got a computer?" Skye asked, dropping her backpack on the floor by the door.

"Oh, of course we do," Jack grinned, putting his laptop on their small desk and gesturing Skye to walk over to it. "Take a seat."

Skye was done with her hacking in minutes, and the two students were clear from danger once she was done: their grades had successfully been changed to B-'s. While Skye and Jack went to fetch Jemma to bring her inside, Tyler started gathering up his fellow friends and acquaintances. The two lawyers-to-be began making deals on Skye and Jemma's behalf, selling their cookies for two or three times more the price they had set. The girls grinned widely as they watched the cookies' packages disappearing and the money piling up on in their pockets. After the sales were finished, Jemma realized how late it was as she gazed through a window and saw the sun sinking low in the west.

Dad! It was the only way to go back home. They asked for a phone and upon dialing the number they hoped that he wouldn't be too angry at them. After all, they did do what he had asked them: not upset mom. Coulson ranged from worried to mad in seconds flat once he learned that his two little girls, both under the age of ten, were at a college dorm. Needless to say that, even though he was already half away home, he turned the car around and drove to New York as fast as he could.

There was some sort of silent agreement between the three to not tell May anything. Coulson came up with a petty lie and all that Jemma and Skye had to do was nod their heads and agree. Coulson told his wife that the girls had called him and that they were a few blocks away from home but too tired so they just waited for him. May didn't really believe any of what she was told but she didn't exactly have any proof of what had actually happened so she let it slip.

* * *

"My feet hurt," Skye whined, walking upstairs.

Jemma followed her little sister to their bedroom, moaning with every footstep, "ow, ow, ow."

"Go to bed. I'll be right there," May told the girls and made the way to the bathroom to grab some cream.

May encountered her husband and Coulson really wished that there was a hole where he could hide because she stared him right in the eye, and she wasn't that happy, "I don't think that they could have gotten blisters in their feet from walking for a few blocks, but I'll just pretend I believed what you told me for the sake of this baby inside me."

Coulson flashed a small smile – he was terrified! – and said, "I didn't –"

"Don't," she warned. "If you want to live, don't try to fool me again."

"Just so you know, nothing bad happened. They were just far from home and no one meant to bother you."

* * *

Despite of what had already happened that day, Jemma and Skye's mischief wasn't done.

Jemma couldn't stop thinking of the money they'd made. Their teacher had made it clear that no matter how little money they could earn, every little bit would help. She had estimated the profit to be about $25. Thanks to Tyler and Jack and their persuasive skills they'd made much more than her initial prediction. She knew that stealing was bad but technically she wasn't stealing. She and Skye had earned that money and Jemma was certain that her sister wouldn't mind if she kept $25 for herself.

Jemma believed she was on the verge of producing a synthesized version of dendrotoxin. For that she needed more chemicals… and money. For a ten-year-old she reasoned extraordinarily well, and that meant that, for such a young child, she could firmly affirm that she was atheist. So, she kept the money and while other kids would later be asking Jesus for forgiveness, she'd be thanking Darwin for ever existing because she'd make a breakthrough.

Skye tiptoed along the hallway to the home office. She poked her head in first, making sure Coulson wasn't working there. The girl was almost certain that he wasn't working late because now that Mom was about to have the baby, he always tried to spend as much time as he could with her, and that meant that they'd go to bed early. They'd both be worn out after the sunset and Coulson would spend nights without sleep if that meant that he could help May find a comfortable position to sleep. It always ended up with him feeling pain everywhere and her sleeping peacefully, using him as backrest and pillow.

As she had expected, he wasn't in the room so she walked in and closed the door behind her. After powering on the laptop she took a seat on the office chair and adjusted her position. Skye swung her legs while dexterously tapping her fingers on the keys, accessing an obscure part of the internet, a part not everyone could access: the hacker's world. Once she logged on to the 'We Are Everyone' forum – group of which she was a part of – she saw that the chat room was bubbling with activity. She was sent greeted by the most highly rated hacktivist in the world of white and gray hat hackers.

**PePpErAvIaToR:** about damn time. we were waiting for more helping hands.

**alienskipper_084:** sorry i'm late. what's there to do?

So far neither Coulson nor May – not even the doctor that had diagnosed her – understood that Skye's narcolepsy was nothing but the fact that she was a night owl. While everyone else was sleeping she was doing hacks that helped free harmful information that needed to be spilled.

* * *

**Baby Philinda arrives next chapter :)**


	25. Room for one more?

Like clockwork, Coulson woke up at 6 AM. As usual for the past few weeks, he woke up sore and in pain since he had been sleeping in strange position just so his wife could sleep through the night a little bit better. But that morning was different. He sat bolt upright and forgot about his pain as soon as he realized that he didn't feel May's body against his and as he noticed that his wristwatch was gone. He got out of bed quickly and noted that the kids were all out of bed and, judging by the noise that came from the kitchen, they were already having breakfast. He caught a glimpse of Lian May going into the kitchen, and as he walked down the staircase he saw his wife pacing from side to side, his wristwatch in her hand. He ran down the steps to May and, approaching from behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his hand on her pregnant belly.

"What's wrong? Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I'm having contractions," May said calmly. "You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't want to wake you. I called my mother and she's been helping me. I've called the doctor already as well, so there's nothing to worry about."

"Mel, you should have woke me up," he sighed and resumed speaking, "how are you on the contractions?"

"One every twelve minutes."

What May didn't tell him was that she had already been feeling contractions for the past three hours, which was when she had called her mother. She didn't want to wake him up because he had done so much for her during the pregnancy, looking after her and the kids and doing everything at home after he'd come back from work that May felt it'd be heartless to wake him at three in the morning just because she was having mild contractions. She called the doctor and he told her no one could do anything until her contractions were three to five minutes apart and she still had long hours before that happened.

"Alright, what can I do for you?"

"Help me get the kids ready for school." Feeling his intense gaze on her, May told him, "I'm fine. We still have hours to go before the birth and I need to distract myself."

"Mom?" Skye crooned and resumed once she swallowed her mouthful of cereal, "why is AJ hurting you?"

May offered a small smile, "It's the way it has to be. It takes hours for babies to be born, and it hurts. Our little Avalyn Johanna is worth it, though."

"Well, that sucks," she concluded, "I don't wanna have babies."

"You're still too young to even think about that," Coulson told her, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. "Whoever's done with breakfast, grab your things and let's get going. Mom is our top priority today."

Lian helped Coulson take the kids to school. Trip, Lance and Grant took the school bus – and their grandmother walked them to the bus stop – but the three youngest were still driven to school, and since Lian didn't have a grasp of the city's layout, it was Coulson who had to take them. Obviously he made Lian leave first while he stayed with May and only drove to the elementary school when she returned.

* * *

May let out a long puff of breath, walking next to her mother at a really slow pace. She was going insane thinking of how she was going into labor but had hours to wait until she'd actually deliver the baby.

"What did you do when you were in labor?"

Lian thought of that day for a moment, "I cooked -"

"I suck at that."

"I reorganized your clothes -"

"Done that."

"I took a nap."

"I could do that," May pondered, taking a seat on the couch.

"Did he just fall asleep?" Lian asked, feeling her blood start to boil as she saw her son-in-law with his head resting on the back of the couch, his chest rising and dropping smoothly.

May caressed the hair on the top of his head, "Yes. Let him sleep."

"You're in labor, your husband falls asleep and you have this apathetic reaction?"

"He deserves to rest much more than I do. He's been relentless these past weeks, taking care of me, the kids, this house," May looked at her husband and leaned forward to press a kiss on his forehead. She turned then to her mother, "let him sleep. And please stop treating him like you can't stand him -"

"And I can't," May sternly glared at her mother. "Don't give me that look. He's a good man, a good father, and he cares, but he was not my top pick for your husband. Andrew was -"

"Mother!"

"I'm being honest. You and Andrew didn't work together like you and Phil do. It's a risk marrying your partner. You know that that's why I've always preferred that you were with someone else."

"Phil and I are good friends, partners, agents and a couple, and we've always known how to separate things. It has never been a problem, why should it be now? Would you prefer that I was unhappily married or that I married the man I love and would protect at all costs?"

"Honestly, I'd worry less if you were miserable. At least you'd be alive."

"He will always have my back and you know it."

"I know. Your actions are what concern me. You are my daughter and I didn't raise a child only to watch her die before I do."

"And this is why we eloped to get married."

"No," Lian firmly said, "that was young love and hormones that caused you two to elope and get married in your twenties."

"We're still married so I guess your 'young love and hormones' argument doesn't work."

Coulson awoke, startled, and rubbed his eyes, "Did I – oh, shit I fell asleep." After seeing May sitting next to him, he asked, "How are you? Do you need anything?"

"I'm thinking of trying to take a nap. I can't think of anything to do and I'm bored out of my mind."

He nodded his head and moved over on the couch to accommodate her. "C'mere."

May rested her back and head on his chest and closed her eyes. Coulson put his arm around her, his hand resting over her belly, "We should spend a weekend away from home."

"Yeah, we could use a break," he snickered. "Once Ava-Jo is about one years old, we'll go on a short vacation. Just you and me."

"I love the sound of that."

"I bet you do. When last did you really take a vacation?"

"When we got married, I think."

"Las Vegas isn't considered a place for vacations," Coulson remarked, much to Lian's annoyance. It was as if they were mocking her by mentioning it.

It didn't take much long for the two of them to nod off. Lian watched them and sighed. She knew she was harsh on Coulson, but she didn't intend any malice even though she spoke her mind. She could tell that he was crazy for her daughter and that he'd do anything in his power to keep her happy and safe. But they were still partners and that was what bothered her. Lian would prefer it if Melinda had married someone else, because Lian had also married her partner and she knew how complicated it could make things. It wasn't such a happy ending for the two of them, and she really wished she could spare her daughter the heartbreak.

* * *

Once May began having contractions every five minutes, Coulson drove to the hospital. Melinda really wanted her mother to go with them as well, so all the kids were left at home with Mimi and would only be taken to the hospital when Avalyn was born. May was observed for a few minutes and everything seemed normal and ready for the delivery; she was dilated enough and Avalyn was in the right position for the birth.

"Are you ready for this?" the doctor asked.

May nodded and took a deep breath before another intense contraction washed over her body.

"It's alright to feel nervous."

"I've got him with me," May looked at Coulson, tightening her grasp on his hand, "things will be alright."

The doctor smiled and adjusted in his chair, "Then let's give birth to this baby."

Coulson dropped a kiss on her forehead and adjusted the grip of her hand. Those minutes she spent pushing felt, for both of them, like hours slowly passing by. Despite the pain, May was calm and focused on her task, and unlike other women, she was quiet and only let out quiet whimpers or throaty moans.

Their world stopped the second Avalyn's cry erupted in the room. The two turned their eyes to the doctor holding their small baby girl, covered in blood, crying. They had made that little angel and they were so amazed that they couldn't even find the air to breath, let alone find a word that could describe that moment. Coulson was given the scissors and, with shaky hands, he cut the umbilical cord. The nurses placed Avalyn in May's arms and the baby calmed down as her mother rocked her. Coulson stroked the baby's closed fist with his index finger and watched in wonder as the tiny hand feebly grasped his finger.

"It was worth all the pain," May voiced, pushing her body up from the bed to transfer Avalyn to Coulson's arms.

Coulson kissed her on the forehead and very nervously held his daughter in his arms. She was tiny and weighed so little that he didn't even know how to hold her properly. He feared that any little movement would hurt that fragile being. Avalyn was still and quiet in her father's arms, as quiet as she had been in her mother's embrace. One of the nurses came to get the baby, commenting on how tranquil she was. As for May, the doctor reminded her that things weren't quite over for her. Coulson was told to wait outside; he'd be allowed in the room again once May and the baby were examined and cleaned up.

He stepped out of the room feeling his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He didn't know what he was feeling exactly: he wanted to cry but at the same time he couldn't help but smile broadly. Lian got up from the chair and he stopped in front of her.

"Melinda and Avalyn are alright."

"Thank you," the woman said, which left Coulson confused. "Thank you for one more grandchild. And for still making my daughter happy after all these years."

He nodded and his voice came out strangled, "My pleasure."

"I'll go and get the kids," Lian said as she began to walk along the hall, "that neighbor of yours turned nanny better give me a hand."

Coulson didn't say anything; first of all, he couldn't find the words – or his voice – to speak, and second, Lian was already too far down the hallway to even hear him. He sat down on a chair and tried to assimilate what just had happened: he was a new dad and he still couldn't believe it. Once he entered the room he saw something he hadn't witnessed in twelve years: May cradling a baby. Last time that happened, she was holding a one-year-old Jemma and they were both terrified. But not now. The two of them were ready for what was to come.

He walked to his wife and kissed her, whispering against her lips, "I love you. I love you so much."

May could only kiss him in return as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed, and the two of them gazed at their baby girl.

"I think she'll be an easy baby," May commented, rubbing slow circles on Avalyn's stomach. "She's really quiet."

* * *

It was adorably hilarious to watch the Coulson's kids entering the room to visit their baby sister for the first time. They unconsciously lined up by the door in order of age, with Trip the one that opened the door and Skye the one at the end of the queue, looking back at their grandmother and nanny, a cool feeling pooling in her tummy due to nervousness and excitement. Lian and Mimi had to wait to hold the baby because Avalyn had to be put in the arms of each of her brothers and sisters first. The kids demanded that.

"Damn," Trip whispered, looking at the baby in his arms, "look at you, girl. I'm gonna chase all the boys away from you."

When Lance held Avalyn, there was some sort of strange magnetism. The baby yawned and batted her eyelids slowly, almost going to sleep. He didn't know how he did it, but Ava-Jo really liked his embrace. It was bittersweet for Grant to hold the baby. He cradled his sister as close and as gentle as he could because he could only remember Thomas and the night he ran away with his sister.

"Why does she look so pink?" Skye asked as soon as she took a seat on the chair and Coulson put Avalyn on her arms.

"She was born a few hours ago," he explained to his daughter, "it's normal she's still a bit pink."

From Skye's arms Avalyn was transferred to Jemma. The older girl looked at the little one attentively and ended up saying that she was beautiful. When Leo held Avalyn, the poor baby was already tired of bouncing from one's arms to another so she was fussy. However, May helped him shush his sister and give her to his grandmother. Lian took her time looking at the baby, feeling that she had gone back some forty years into the past and was holding her daughter. The resemblances were uncanny and Lian ended up letting Mimi hold Avalyn because she was feeling such powerful emotion building up inside her.

Mimi held Avalyn for a little while and once she picked up the slightest whimpers of upset from the baby, she returned her to Coulson. He rocked her in his arms gently, making shushing sounds with his mouth. Skye walked to May and gave her Marshmallow, the little soft, white-colored fur teddy bear.

"It's for Ava-Jo."

May held the teddy bear and asked, "Are you sure you want to give Marshmallow to Avalyn?"

"Yes. I'm too big for teddy bears. But she's not."

Coulson laid Avalyn down on the bassinet once she was sleeping. May stretched out her arm and put Marshmallow next to Avalyn. All the kids gathered around their sister and watched her for a little while.

"It wasn't that hard for them to accept all of this after all," Coulson commented to his wife, sitting on the chair beside her bed.

* * *

**Alright, baby Philinda is born. Now prepare yourselves to start saying goodbye to the kids *evil laugh* **


	26. I Want You Back

**Trip is 16, Lance is 12, Grant is 11, Leo is 10, Jemma is 9, Skye is 7 and Avalyn is six-months-old.**

* * *

It was not much of a sweet sixteen for Trip. Sure he got presents, and cake, and the whole family and many friends were there for his big day – Coulson and May even invited his birth mother to his birthday – but it was on the night of that day that his mood dropped.

May had collected the mail early that day but had put away one letter that was address to the teenager. She decided that she'd only show it to him later than day, or maybe on the day after. He was turning sixteen and his day was supposed to be joyful. However, Trip found the letter by accident but completely understood why his parents had kept it a secret from him.

He walked to his bedroom and sat on his bed. Lance was snoring loudly across from him, sprawled on his bed. First, the teenager stared the front of the envelope. SHIELD's stamp was imprinted clearly, its black pattern contrasting with the pristine white paper. Then, his fingers traced, with a bittersweet feeling, the line where his name was written. He had grown fond of his family; it had been nine years living with them now, but the fact that the letter was address to Antoine Gabriel Triplett and not Antoine Gabriel Coulson saddened him. All the kids knew that, one day or another, they'd have to leave the Coulson's house and get back their old names, crawl back into their old lives, their old personas.

He drew a shaky, long sigh, pondering if it was best to open the letter then or later. He really wanted to know if he had made it into SHIELD's Academy or not. Obviously part of him didn't want to go, but another part was already aching to pack and leave and fulfill his dream of being a SHIELD agent and keeping the world safe. After all, he had tried his best to overcome his limits and excel at the fitness tests the week before. Trip gently ripped the envelope open and pulled the enclosed sheet of paper out. He read every line of the text carefully, which ended with the sentence:

_Antoine Gabriel Triplett has fulfilled all required parameters present on the criteria to enroll in SHIELD's Academy. The cadet must be present at the Academy within one week of the date of issue of this letter to complete additional forms and begin the training course._

* * *

The next day, while all his siblings were at their extra-curricular activities and Jemma and Leo were down at basement-turned-lab, Trip went to tell his mother the news. She was folding tiny socks in her bedroom and Avalyn was sleeping in the crib at the foot of their bed. Trip walked into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at his lap as his fingers played with envelope he held.

"What did it say?" May set the clothes aside and sat next to him.

He looked up at her and said almost expressionlessly, "I'm in."

The woman offered him a small smile and draped her arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arm for comfort and pressing a kiss to the side of his head, "I knew you'd get in."

"I need to be at the Academy before next Wednesday. Could use some help packing my stuff…"

"Sure," May nodded and got up. She said over her shoulder, "I'll try to find a suitcase in the basement. You can start gathering your things."

Trip nodded his head in agreement and watched his mother walk out of the bedroom. He could feel that she was feeling the same way he was: she wanted him to go but at the same time she wanted him to stay. When May met Trip at his and Lance's bedroom, the teenager had already laid out all his clothes over the bed. The two of them folded and put the clothes away in the suitcase in relative silence.

"I still remember my first day at the Academy," May reminisced.

"Were you nervous?"

"For a while. Then I saw _him_ and the nervous knot in my stomach turned into butterflies. That was far more uncomfortable," she said with a smirk. "And he didn't make it any easier either. He was… well, he was being the same old Phil Coulson you know today. Even though I tried hard to fight the feeling, I just couldn't." May resumed folding the clothes, turning to Trip, "You'll make good friends there."

"I know," he nodded and offered a smile. "I'm thinking of telling the news to everyone tonight at dinner. What do you think Dad will say about it?"

"He'll be proud, I'm sure. You know, I was the one against you going to the Academy. I've been there, your father has been there, we know the risks of having this job -"

"This is what I want to do. I'm aware of the -"

"I know. And that's what you father told me too. He said it's in your blood and that I could try to stop it, but I'd only be delaying your decision. No matter what, I knew that one day you'd be going to the Academy and I'd have to live with it."

"But… you don't want me to go?"

May tossed the T-shirt she was holding over the bed to look at Trip, "I was twenty-four when I married and few months after that we just started having a bunch of children crowding our house. I'd be lying if I told you that I wanted to have a family. I mean, I wanted to get married and I wanted children but not that fast. At first I saw you all as assignments but then each one of you grew on me. So no, I don't want you to go but I know I have to let you."

Trip wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her into a hug, resting his chin on her shoulder, "We'll all gonna be alright. You're doing an amazing job raising seven of us and I couldn't have had asked for better when I was adopted. I'm going away but you ain't getting rid of me."

"Good," May snickered, "because this house will still need your fun and your funk every now and then."

Avalyn's cry grew in volume and May parted the hug and waited a few seconds to get confirmation of the sound.

"Go get her," Trip said, "I'll keep on packing."

May found Avalyn stirring and whining softly in her crib, trying to kick away the blanket that had tangled around her legs. She giggled once she saw her mom and she raised her arms up, drooling and cooing things in her own language. The woman picked her up in her arms and dropped a kiss on her rosy cheeks, brushing away a few thin strands of hair off her forehead. She walked back to Trip's bedroom and Avalyn immediately let out a happy screech, leaning towards her brother.

"C'mere girl," he said, picking her up.

"Is that your grandfather's spy gear?" May asked as she noticed an old suitcase on the floor, opened.

"Yeah. I was taking a look at it. I think I'll leave it here. Maybe Leo can do some improvements on it?"

"Maybe you shouldn't, unless you want the gear to be all modified and upgraded with the latest technology improvements."

Trip chuckled, "I'll leave them to Dad then. He was super excited when I first showed it to him."

"Yeah, he tends to get a bit too excited when it comes to 40's stuff."

"I think she's hungry…?" Trip asked as he looked at his sister biting her own fingers, drool dripping down her chin.

May threw a quick glance at the clock and stated, "It is time for her to eat. Keep an eye on her while I prepare her formula?"

"Yeah, sure, take your time. I'll be showing Ava how cool the Howling Commandos' gear is."

May smiled and walked out the bedroom. Trip took a seat on the floor and sat Avalyn on his lap and showed her the vintage spy gear, explaining each object to her as if she understood. He grabbed the Noisemaker and spun it. Avalyn wanted to grab it, but instead she giggled once she heard the sound,

"Hey-ho friends! The enemy approaches! Careful now, or they'll win the day!"

"I'd say you like the Noisemaker," Trip remarked with a smile, spinning it again to see Avalyn's happiness.

May returned a few minutes later with Avalyn's sippy cup and gave it to her. She popped it in her mouth immediately, drinking the formula avidly since she had slept for longer than her usual so her hunger was more insistent than usual.

"Take it slow, Avalyn," May said, holding the cup for her. If she hadn't done so, Avalyn would have tilted her head and the cup all the way back and choke herself.

Avalyn grumbled between sucks and brushed off May's hand. She was hungry, why was her mom trying to stop her from drinking her milk? Trip chuckled, looking at his sister gripping her sippy cup in a tight grip.

"I have the feeling she's gonna drink everyone under the table when she's older."

"There's still a long way till that," May mused, stroking the girl's hair.

She sat Avalyn on the bed and rested her back against a pillow, to help her stay balanced, and resumed helping Trip pack his things.

* * *

Trip swallowed hard and tightened the grip on his duffel bag. May and Coulson stepped out of the car and walked him inside the Academy. It had been rough saying goodbye to everyone. Jemma and Skye couldn't stop crying, begging him not to go and 'study away from home'. Lance felt the burden of now being the oldest weighing down on his shoulders. Leo threw a tantrum and locked himself in his bedroom. Only Grant accepted reasonably well his foster brother's departure. He couldn't wait for the day he'd be going to the Academy as well. It wasn't hard to say goodbye to Sam either. Trip's friend was also departing, though he was going to a place much farther away: he was joining the US Air Force. Sam had a dream of becoming a pararescueman and he had been working to be at the peak of his fitness, to meet the parameters established by the Army.

Before heading to the Academy, May and Coulson drove Trip to his mother's apartment, which was in the toughest neighborhood of Harlem. The two waited outside the door, letting the mother and the son talk more intimately. The woman shared the same thought as Coulson: even if they wanted to stop him from joining SHIELD that was something that ran in his blood. Sooner or later he'd be following the same path as his grandfather. Before leaving, Trip left his mother with the promise that once he'd make enough money, he'd buy her a nice house in a friendly neighbor.

Coulson firmly put his hand on Trip's shoulder, "Well, this is it. Are you ready?"

Trip grinned, taking a moment to look at the building and the people, and then looked back at his parents, "Ready as I'll ever be. Granddad would be proud, right?"

"He'd be saying 'Damn, look at my boy'," Coulson said, offering a smile.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "But two things: one, my grandfather wouldn't say that; and two, don't try that again. It doesn't suit your personality."

"But it suits yours," May's smile was beginning to fade. "And if one thing is sure it's that we'll laugh a lot less at home without you there."

"I promised Jemma and Skye I'd Skype at least once a week, so…"

Coulson pulled Trip in for a hug and clapped his back, "You do good in there."

"I will, sir," Trip answered and then gave May a hug, "I'm gonna miss you guys. And thank you… for taking care of me."

"It's been our pleasure," May told him.

Coulson wrapped his arm around May's waist and the two watched as Trip walked in the Academy and disappeared among the other students.

"This is just the first time we have to deal with this," May commented as they walked back to the car.

"I know. It'll be hard to watch them leave but we can't keep them with us forever, can we?"

* * *

**This last sentence summarizes things perfectly: they can't keep the kids forever. **


	27. Yes Men

**Regarding to this kids ages, I'm glad one person (reviewed as Guest) pointed out Jemma and Leo's ages aren't always matching: sometimes he's older, other times she is. The reason is that I'm following canon with their ages and Simmons said to Skye that Fitz is exactly 23 days older than her. So, that's the reason why the ages are always changing; 23 days aren't that significant and I just play around with it.**

**There are notes at the end of this chapter to help you understand the comic book history. By the way, memorysdaughter suggested I'd write something in the lines of the episode 'Yes Men' and I thought, what better way to do it by bringing Lorelei into the mix?**

**(Trip is 17), Lance is 14 (almost 15), Grant is 13, Leo is 12, Jemma is 11, Skye is 9 and Avalyn is 3.**

* * *

To say that Lance was bored was an understatement. He was beyond bored. He was a three months away from turning fifteen and his parents still thought of him as a little child. But if there was one thing Lance was that the reason why he was forbidden to go out of the house for three weeks was Leo's fault. Why did he have to go through his stuff and find the magazine? Lance didn't exactly bother much with the fact that his little brother had found the magazine. His blood boiled and he wanted to kill him in the spot when he was overexcited with the fact that he had seen 'ladies' boobies in Lance's magazine'. May overheard him saying that and the house turned into a living hell.

Since Skye was hogging the laptop and he couldn't even go near her – she'd run to mom and dad and whine about how he was being nagging her and that only lead to his parents scolding him even more – Lance was running out of things to do. He had actually taken some time to do some delayed homework – already three weeks old – but other than that he was bored. Mimi was taking care of Avalyn, Skye was on the computer (as usual), Jemma and Leo were trying to see who'd make the loudest bang in the basement (one day they'd blow up the entire house and yet he was the only one to blame just because he had an adult magazine in _his own bedroom_…!) and while May was still at work, Coulson and Grant had gone hunting (with a _shotgun_ that fired _bullets_! He still couldn't follow his mother's logic...).

That was when he looked out of the window in his bedroom and saw the two young women walking past the house. One was a blonde, the other one was red-headed and they were both gorgeous. He didn't hesitant to scramble to his feet and run down the stairs.

"Hey, Mr. Lancelot," Mimi called before he made out the door. "Didn't your parents forbid you to go out?"

"Yeah. But you're not gonna tell me, are you?"

The woman sighed, "I don't want to be the bad one here, but I don't want any trouble with your parents either."

"I'll be back soon," he said, trying his best convince. "Promise. It's just… there are two… and they're..." he babbled, embarrassed. "C'mon, Mimi. I'll be back before The Cavalry is back."

"Watch the hours, please. I don't want troubles."

Lance smirked, "Don't worry."

* * *

"We have been through five of the nine Realms and no creature has pleased me yet," Lorelei admitted with a defeated tone.

"That is because you set your standards too high," Amora retorted with an eye roll.

"And that makes me guilty of anything? I seek the best and only settle for the best. But if my pursuit of idle pleasures bothers you so much, why coming as well?"

"You have attempted to kill Lady Sif simply because, among thousands of Asgardians, you tried to seduce Thor and she defended him, as usual. At Nidavellir you controlled the Dwarves and wanted them to create a sword made of Uru for you. Wherever you go, you cause chaos. I might as well come along and make sure no one dies."

"I have been in control of my lust for power and wealth lately. I have not slayed anyone and I have released the hold on every enthralled creature I controlled."

"That is good but not reassuring. I do not know when your nature will get the better of yourself again. After all, discretion is not your strongest suit."

Lorelei glared her sister, "If you do not stop talking, I might kill you instead."

The other sorceress breathed in and out slowly, "Perhaps we should go back to Alfheim. You did seem to like them."

"The Light Elves of Alfheim had great stamina and were agile. But they had…" Lorelei frowned, "pointy ears."

Amora sighed and shook her head, "That is their only problem, the shape of their ears? You always seem to find a problem with every race we find, do you not?"

"The Vanir gods were good. A bit savages, but good."

"Then maybe we should go back to Vanaheim," the older one said.

"It's too close to home. I want something new."

"Jötunheim was far away enough. What was the Jötuns problem?"

"Too cold in there," Lorelei looked around as she explained in a nonchalant tone, "and the Frost Giants are not the most attractive creatures of the Nine Realms. I just really hope someone here on Midgard might be… remarkably satisfying."

"You know where you should be? In Asgard, mastering your sorcery powers, not going from realm to realm seeking for men who can please you."

Lorelei stopped walking as she saw a young man looking at her. His lips were slightly parted and his pupils widened with lust as he breathed in deeply.

"Look at him," Lorelei said, raising her hand to point at Lance staring right at her. She could feel something strong coming from him.

"Midgardians do not go through puberty like we do. Their development happens very quickly and causes…that…" she remarked upon sensing the mix of emotions that came from Lance's body. "He is most likely confused and you are about to get in trouble."

"I have the feeling he wants trouble," the younger one retorted, walking to the teenager in quick strides. "What is your name?"

"Lance. And you are?"

"Lorelei. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Amora stopped by her sister's side and asked her, "Release the hold on him, will you? He looks _very_ young."

"I am not doing anything," Lorelei told her sister. "He is genuinely interested in me."

"How could I not?" Lance said. "You're the most gorgeous woman I've seen."

Lorelei turned her head really slowly to look at her sister, "Finally someone who appreciates me."

"How old are you?" Amora asked.

Lance hadn't yet stopped looking at Lorelei, "Fifteen. But that doesn't matter, does it?"

"You want me…" Lorelei stated, her eyes attentively studying Lance's behavior.

"You are not going to control him, Lorelei!" Amora shouted.

"I do not need to," Lorelei spoke, walking to Lance. "He wants this and I can feel his desire growing."

He grabbed her hand and started pulling her down the street, "Let me show you a place I know."

"Do not worry, Amora," Lorelei said over her shoulder as she was walking away, "This is consensual and I have the appearance of a mid-twenty-year-old Midgardian. No one will ever suspect."

"I will be here. Waiting," Amora sighed.

Her Asgardian sister having intercourse with a Midgardian teenager would not create any problem. Asgardians were not affected by the common tellurian ailments and vice-versa. Moreover, Amora had sensed the same craving feeling that emanated from Lance. Whether under Lorelei's control or not, he would have not given up on wooing her.

* * *

"Where have you been?"

That was the first question Lance had to answer as soon as he entered through the front door. Luckily it was Coulson who was asking him that, not May.

"I, uh…" he was breathless and could barely breathe, covered in sweat, his heart pounding wildly in his chest and his legs were still quivering.

"You are so lucky your mother still isn't home. Now tell me, where have you been?"

"I… need a shower."

"This isn't over, Lance!" Coulson yelled as Lance ran upstairs. "I'll let you take a shower but you're not getting rid of having a conversation with me."

Coulson left the kids having dinner to go to the upper floor and talk with Lance. It had been an hour and he still hadn't showed up. Logically he didn't want to talk because he knew he had broken the punishment that they imposed on him but Coulson was worried. He was acting very strangely when he arrived home and that was why he was worried: what if something wrong had happened? He needed to know.

"Lance?" Coulson called, knocking on the door. "Can I come in? I just want to talk… Come on," he tried to turn the doorknob but the door was locked, "let me in. I'm worried."

After a few minutes of insistence, Coulson gave up. Lance would come to talk with him when he felt like it. He was already going down the first steps when he heard the door being unlocked. The man inversed his path and walked back to the bedroom, but did it at an unhurried pace, trying not to let on his anxiety. He walked in slowly and found Lance sitting on the edge of his bed and took a seat next to him.

"Is there anything you want to tell me about? You arrived home quite…"

"Ecstatic," Lance supplied with the word he knew fitted his mood. "I was ecstatic. Still am."

"Any particular reason for that?"

Lance looked at his father and smirked, "I just had the time of my life."

"What did you do?" Coulson's expression hardened.

"Met a girl. And we had some fun."

"You didn't…" the man chuckled but not exactly showing that he was happy, "Did you just have sex? Did you just…" he sighed deeply and resumed, "I don't know whether to be happy because you're finally a grown up man or if to be mad because you had sex."

"I'd prefer if you'd be happy for -"

"Who was the girl? Did you two use protection? How long do you know her?"

"About that…" Lance rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't… I don't exactly know her and we -"

Coulson stood up and pointed his finger at him, "You know what? You're going to tell all of that to your mother. She's always been better at disciplining children than me."

"What? Dad, she's gonna kill me!"

"That's what you deserve, Lance. Now you stay here and wait for her to come home," he said as he walked to the door, "and dare you to jump down the goddamn window again or – or you don't even want me to finish this sentence for your own good. Did you understand?"

"Yes," Lance growled. "You know, I was trying to tell you about my first time, looking for your help -"

"I had to come to your bedroom to know what happened. You definitively didn't look my help. Don't try to guilt trip me, Lance. You just wait till your mother is home."

Coulson let the door close behind him and walked downstairs, going straight to the kitchen. May was already serving herself dinner when she saw her husband walking in.

"Is everything alright? You were shouting and you don't act like that."

He pointed to the staircase, "Go talk with Lance, please."

* * *

**Just to reinforce the idea: everything that happened between Lance and Lorelei was consensual. **

**Lorelei is the younger sister of the sorceress, Amora the Enchantress. The two sisters share an interest in using their beauty and wiles to dominate any male that either desires. However, unlike Amora, Lorelei has had no interest in mastering sorcery, apart from learning certain skills to aid her in her amatory pursuits. Both sisters are natives of Asgard.**

**Amora and Lorelei had been to the following Worlds: Asgard (their birthplace), Nidavellir (home of the Dwarves), Alfheim (home of the Light Elves), Jötunheim (home of the Frost Giants; also, Loki's birthplace), Vanaheim (home of a sister race of the Asgardians) and now Midgard (home of the humans aka Earth). **

**By the way, there will be consequences to Lance's actions. You'll learn about them in a later chapter. **


	28. Author's Note

It is with great regret and sadness that I announce that this fanfiction will be erased. After this Wednesday (July 1, 2015) "Superheroes don't (always) wear capes" will no longer be available.

No, I cannot simply put it on hiatus because this fanfiction has a beta read and I can't and won't put someone who's doing me a favor on hold.

This fanfiction has proved to be really fun for me to write, but I didn't think it through and now I'm left without further options to finish it. It has become quite literally a wrecking train. I deeply apologize to my readers and Caitlin, my beta reader for everything.

I'll take this time to plan new fanfictions and I'll be back soon enough! ^_^ Thanks guys!


	29. Author's Note 2

Guess whose back?

Yes, that is correct. **This fanfiction is coming back to active after four months of hiatus.**

I love this fanfiction so much that I couldn't stand the idea of leaving it incomplete. These characters' stories need to evolve and I've got some ideas planned.

**I still accept prompts, so let me hear them through reviews or PMs. **

As for now, I'd like you to **go to my profile and vote on the poll**. I'll need that character's name soon, so it'd be nice if you'd all vote. And thanks already in advance for doing so.

Next chapter should be uploaded next week and it's called 'Bow Ties and Pearls'. It's a cutesy chapter featuring Lance, Leo, Skye and Avalyn.


	30. Bow Ties and Pearls

**I figured you all deserved a sweet chapter, so here it is.**

* * *

**(Trip is 18), Lance is 15, Grant is 13, Leo is 12, Jemma is 12, Skye is 9 and Avalyn is 2 and ½.**

* * *

"Hey Mim," Lance peeked in the kitchen, hands holding the doorframe, "I'm headin' down to th' thrift shop, 'lright?"

Mimi was feeding Avalyn in her high chair. She looked up from the bowl she was holding and nodded, "Alright. But no stopping at the pub downtown. Your parents warned they're coming home earlier and you don't want trouble, do you?"

"Roger that," he said, proving a salute. He winked at his little sister who giggled, "See ya later, pinky."

The neighbor-turned-babysitter smiled and continued to feed the toddler. Lance walked to the door, and before reaching for his leather jacket hanging on the coat hanger, he recounted the money his mother had given him earlier that day. May and Coulson did the clothes' shopping for their kids, except for Lance. He now requested that they'd give him the money they were planning on spend on his clothes because he wanted to buy them himself. He was now into a grunge phase, his wardrobe consisting mainly of band T-shirts, flannel, plaid shirts, worn-out jeans, leather jackets, Converse sneakers and combat boots that he bought at the thrift shop.

"You're going to the thrift shop?" Leo asked, rushing down the stairs to get to his brother before he exited the door.

"Yes," he looked back at the curly-haired boy, "why?"

"I want to go too. I like your T-shirts."

Lance sighed, "Alright. I guess you can come. Go tell Mimi."

Leo returned, bringing Avalyn by hand, "She wants to come too."

The teenager stooped and beckoned the toddler, picking her up in arms, "You can't come with us, pinky."

"I wanna a dwess. A pink, pwetty dwess."

"You want a pink, pretty dress?" Avalyn nodded at her brother's question. "Ok. We can get you a nice dress," he put her down on her feet and helped her dress her wool cardigan.

"I want to go too," Skye spoke from the couch, leaving her '_Beginning Programming For Dummies_' book behind and joining her siblings who were still gathered up by the door. "I want a dress too."

Leo frowned, "You? You want a dress?"

"Yeah," Skye answered, unfazed. "Why?"

"You're the most tomboyish girl I've ever met."

"Oh bloody hell," Lance piped up. "We're all going, I suppose."

Grant and Jemma weren't home (he was at his boxing training and Jemma had just began taking piano lessons) but he was sure if they were home, they'd be wanting to join.

"I'm guess I'm going too," Mimi said with a smirk.

"It's okay, Mim," the oldest told her. "I can keep an eye on 'em. Only AJ is a baby. I expect Leo and Skye to act their age."

"I think Mimi was actually worried that _you_ don't act your age," Leo teased.

Lance chuckled, not too willingly, and picked up Avalyn in arms, "Forget the T-shirts, Leo. I'm giving you not even one."

"Fine. I've got loads of pocket money saved up," the younger boy affirmed and then ran upstairs to get some money.

"Sure you'll be alright?" the babysitter insisted.

"Yup. We'll be fine."

As soon as Leo returned from his bedroom, the four siblings left out the door, heading to the thrift shop downtown.

* * *

Skye and Avalyn were left at the girl clothing section with the shop's clerk. Leo and Lance walked over to the grungier second-hand goods. The two of them had already picked up a few items when the older girl came running to them. She swirled on the tip of her feet, showing the dress to her brothers.

"How do you feel in it?" Lance asked in a joyful tone.

Skye had picked up the most luxurious dress that fitted her. It was made out of white sateen, delicately overlaid with an intricate floral pattern in black lace. The dress had a sateen waist belt of a white color and the pouf skirt had an inner tulle layering that ballooned up as she twirled.

"Weird," Skye admitted, straightening the skirt. "There's too much air going up my legs."

The boys laughed at her comment.

"Where's AJ, by the way?"

"Oh, the clerk is helping her put on a dress," the girl said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder, pointing in the general direction of where her little sister was.

Lance walked in quick strides to where Skye pointed, "And you left her alone?"

Skye and Leo followed him suit but all stopped abruptly at the sight of Avalyn so happily smiling as the clerk finished zipping up her dress. Avalyn wore a navy blue dress. Its satin bodice was adorned with a bow and fabric tie around her waist. The full skirt featured a mesh layer, for extra volume, that was emblazoned with rosettes and tiny black sequins.

"How does she look boys?" the clerk asked, turning to Lance and Leo.

"'ook," Avalyn screeched in happiness, running to her siblings, "'t's pwetty!"

"You look gorgeous, pinky," Lance picked up the toddler in arms and walked over to the full-length mirror, "look at you."

Avalyn was too busy gazing herself in the mirror, absolutely marveled with the dress, that she didn't notice Leo approaching. He had put on a bowtie, picked a charcoal colored fedora and was finishing clipping on the suspenders he had grabbed from a shelf.

"Look," the older boy called Avalyn's attention, and then tapped on the top of Leo's hat, "Leo's all fancy too."

"You should get yourself somethin' fancy too," Skye suggested, taking Avalyn from him.

Lance took a quick look around. He ended up picking up a fedora for himself as well, but he also put on a navy, textured waistcoat that had an exterior chest welt pocket and two lower welt pockets. The four of them were staring at the mirror, in fits of laughter. Not even the clerk woman could resist not smiling; they were all too precious.

"Get us a photo," Skye asked. "Got ya phone, Lance?"

"'course I do," he replied, already going through his jeans pockets to get it. "Like I go anywhere without it."

The worker snapped a photo of the four of them and said, "You should wear less plaid and more classic clothing."

"Maybe when I'm older and rich," the teen commented.

The three older of the clan stripped off the clothes they had dressed, but obviously Avalyn didn't want to change back into her boring, comfy clothes. That was when, after Lance glared her, that the clerk realized she had made a big mistake by putting on such a beautiful dress on a little child. Leo and Lance exchanged a look and reached a silent agreement: they'd not buy the items they chose, but instead, Avalyn would get to take home the dress.

* * *

**Do you guys like Lian May? Well guess what? She's coming back next chapter. She and Lance are the main characters of the next chapter, and also, prepare yourselves, Lance is going away...**


	31. Fly or Die

**(Trip is 18), Lance is 15, Grant is 14, Leo is 12, Jemma is 12, Skye is 10 and Avalyn is 3.**

* * *

"Gra – grandma," Lance huffed in between words, "I can – can't breathe."

"Imagine I'm chasing you with a gun," Lian said calmly, running by his side, not sounding breathless at all. "Is that how fast you're going to run?"

"Ugh," he stopped abruptly and placed his hand on his chest, head thrown back as he tried to breathe, "I can't – I'm dy –dying. Mom and – and Dad will wr – write on my gravestone – Lance Hub – Hubert Hunter, beloved s – son, die – died because of exer – exercise."

"If only you talked less and ran more," the woman pointed out.

Lian stopped by her grandson's side and did some stretching exercises, so that her muscles wouldn't cool and tense. Lance, on the other hand, was bent down, hands resting on his knees, his head hanging low as breathed heavily. Once he recovered his breath and looked around, people were staring at the strange sight.

"Yeah, she's fast for a tiny 82-year-old woman," he mumbled lamely to himself.

"This tiny 82-year-old woman can kick your ass. I'd watch your mouth if I were you."

Lance sighed throatily, "What was I thinking when I asked you this?"

"You thought the right thing," Lian told him, pulling him by the arm so that the two could stroll along the park. "When it comes to training, I'm the best."

"Lian May, the ultimate swagger."

"You bet your lame British ass that I'm full of swag."

The teenager laughed so hard he could barely breath (not that he was breathing properly until now), "Do you even know what swag is?"

"The undefinable 'it'. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. The kind of style that can't be taught. Game recognizes game."

He was still smirking, "Y' know, game's looking and game sees nothing."

Lian grinned, but her eyes darkened, "Alright, I'll show you game." Speaking a bit louder, so that the youngster in the park could hear her, Lian challenged, "Float after me, little butterfly."

Lance sighed and speedily ran past the laughing faces of the teenage skaters, "Gotta love Fridays."

After running the last mile of their six mile run, Lian and Lance head home to complete the rest of their daily working out session that consisted of front squats, press-ups, sit-ups, tuck jumps, burpees and sprints.

* * *

_Five weeks earlier_

"We need to talk with you, Lance," Coulson said, gesturing to the couch. "Sit down."

The teenager sighed and stripped off his leather jacket. He looked absolutely exhausted, "Great, so do I," he admitted.

_When Lance was ten, he worked his best to be chosen for the soccer tryouts. Instead, his good friend Tyler sprained his ankle on purpose after his father (who was the team's coach) told him to, so that Lance wouldn't be chosen by the talent scout. Soccer became some sort of hobby for him after that. He couldn't really play professionally anymore; Lance didn't know if he'd ever get to play professionally, but he liked to have that option available. His focus changed then to learning the bass. When Lance was twelve, he worked his best to be the bass player for a tweens' band. Instead, his bandmates chose another bass player on the day of their big performance (the bass player was older but not exactly better). He made a fool out of himself and couldn't get over the embarrassment. He sold the bass but kept the grunge fashion sense. That was the moment Lance became completely uninterested about everything. _

_He was always put aside, ever since his birth (his mother died delivering him, his father didn't even know he existed, and his aunt couldn't look after him). He was tired of always being the second choice, of being hurt and humiliated. Lance's freshman year in high school was the beginning of Coulson and May's torment. He skipped classes, drunk, disobeyed every rule they imposed on him, had a new girlfriend every two weeks, ran away to go to parties and got arrested three times for disturbance and misconduct. Luckily, his parents managed to keep his record clean, and now he thanked them for that._

_Lance didn't know what he wanted to do later in his life. He had no objectives, ambitions or willpower. Until one day. He was about to browse adult content material when an ad about recruitment for the Royal Air Force popped on the side of the page. After that moment, it as if everything in his life made sense. The idea of being a pilot with the Air Force grew on him and that turned into his main life objective. He fitted the main requisites to apply for the position and all he needed was training, so that he could perform well on the fitness tests, and the money to pay for his flight to the UK when he'd be called to pre-recruitment tests._

_He already had the bad boy reputation, so his parents always believed he was up to no good when he wasn't home, when in fact that wasn't true. Lance started to get up really early every morning to do the first shift at downtown's supermarket, then he'd run to school, and after that he'd go back to the supermarket, dividing his time between working and studying – he needed to be smart to enter the Air Force. May and Coulson started to suspect his behavior: he was hardly ever at home, his grades were improving and they'd caught him sneaking out of the house several times at late hours of the night. They believed he was going to bars and parties, but he was in fact going for a long run (and he always managed to sneak out of the house, even after having been caught). The couple couldn't understand what was going on: he looked like he was misbehaving but nothing indicated such thing. _

_Even though they were well aware that what they were about to do was wrong and it'd be invading his privacy, Coulson and May rummaged through everything Lance owned, trying to find out what was happening. He wouldn't talk about it, sticking to made-up stories of delinquent behavior and late nights at bars, so they had to find out on their own. They found a large sum of money hid in one of his boots in the closet, a paper sheet with a training program and an application form for the Royal Air Force folded in the middle of one of his schoolbooks. _

Walking over to his parents, but not taking a seat next to them, he said, "When school's over, I'm going to Grandma Lian's house."

That was not what they expected to hear. May asked, "Why?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "she called and told me that. She's a spy and must have found out my brilliant behavior. I think she wants to discipline me or something. Couldn't care even a bit," Lance lied.

He was the one who called his grandmother and asked her if she could train him. He wanted to seize the summer break to workout even more so that he could apply for the Air Force in the coming September. He didn't tell his parents about his desire to join the armed services because if he wouldn't be approved, he wanted that to be something only he knew about. He was tired of fighting for things and then getting the rug swept from under his feet. This time wouldn't be like the soccer talent scout or the rock band, he promised himself.

Coulson and May didn't reveal what they found; they knew that if he was going over to his grandmother then it was because he was really focused on pursuing his dream and that he had straighten his path.

"I hope she does a good job disciplining you," Coulson said, sounding repressive, but he in fact was utterly proud of Lance. He was finally growing up.

* * *

Lance had his arms crossed over his chest on a futile attempted to keep his body warm. It was a hot day of August, and he was only wearing his underwear, but just the sight of the bathtub full of cold water and the ice cubes floating around froze him to his core. And he had been taking icy baths after workout sessions for five weeks now.

"What are you waiting for?" Lian asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Just wondering," he smiled as he looked at her. "Is it because of icy baths that you've got to being 82 and looking as gorgeous as that? 'Cause I –"

"My ego doesn't need stroking. Get in the tub."

The teenager could only breathe heavily as he slowly stepped into the bathtub, the coldness going up and up his body. It took him a few minutes to fully immerse in the water. Gritting his teeth, he breathed only through his nose and tried to stay still because it felt that the more he moved, the colder the water got.

"How does it feel?"

"Like I'm sinking on the Titanic," he grumbled. "Is this really necessary or is it just bullshit and you've been punishing me during these five weeks?"

"Ice baths after hard workouts reduce tissue swelling and help decrease inflammations. It's not bullshit. Five minutes," she reminded him before she left the bathroom.

After spending five long minutes in the icy water, Lance delightedly stepped out of the bathtub and changed into clean clothes. Lian had left his lunch on the table and was outside, in the garden. The teenager smiled at the lunch his grandmother presented him with: Hawaiian pizza – his favorite – and a coke. He got himself a slice of pizza and grabbed the soda can, walking outside to meet her.

"Pizza and a coke? This has been, by far, the best lunch you've served me in five weeks."

"Well, you deserved it. You worked well today."

"Don't I always work well?"

"Today you ran six miles."

"I ran what?" Lance looked at his grandmother with a serious expression. "Six miles? I run three miles every day and that's already the double I'm supposed to run in the fitness test and today I ran six miles? That's four times more the effort!"

"Oh, please, it didn't hurt you running a few more miles."

"Tell that to my muscles!"

"Eat the pizza and have the soda before I take them away," she warned. "You're not supposed to eat carbs."

"Anything else I'm not supposed to do?" he teased.

"Talk so much," Lian smirked as soon as she turned her back at him.

She took a seat on the chair at the porch, reading a book. Lance brought the pizza box outside and sat next to her.

"I'm taking Layla to the movies tonight," he blurted out.

Layla was one of the many teenagers in Lian's neighborhood who had fallen for Lance's charms.

"If you get home after midnight you're sleeping outside."

* * *

September came and Lance took off to the UK for a whole week on his own, to do the pre-recruitment tests. Lance still needed some more money for the trip, and Lian ended up giving it to him and made him promise that once he'd get accepted (because she knew he would), the first people he'd have to tell the news were his parents. May regularly called her mother, to know about her son, and even if they didn't exactly speak about it, Lian picked up that Coulson and May knew about the teenager's plans to serve with the Royal Air Force.

Lance was firstly put through the aptitude tests that confirmed that his eyesight, his body mass and health condition were within the required parameters. Then he was submitted to a selection interview that covered some basic topics such as family life, education, his hobbies and his interest in the Royal Air Force. A second interview would be conducted if Lance would be accepted. Following those first two steps, Lance and the other recruits were put through the fitness test. He felt confident that he could get himself well ranked. The test involved a one and half mile run, press-ups and sit-ups, and then the beep test. Lance ended up surpassing the average expected for someone of his age and gender. One of the instructors commented that he'd be accepted in the RAF for sure, and that once he completed 3 months of service, that he'd approach him about the possibility of him being part of the Special Air Service.

(10 weeks of intense training paid off. Lance was _slightly_ more mature after graduation, and within six years he got the rank of Flight Lieutenant and was also part of a Special Air Service squadron.)

* * *

**Lance Hunter, the sarcastic, whinny guy from Agents of SHIELD, is a Flight Lieutenant (yeah, I know, it's the most common rank in the RAF…) and was part of a Special Air Service squadron. For those of you that don't know this:**

**The SAS (Special Air Service) is the British army's elite special operations force. The main elements of the SAS recruit only from British Armed Forces, never the general public. The five-month training and selection process for the SAS is brutally intense. From the approximately 200 candidates that are selected, most will drop out within the first few days, and by the end only about 30 will remain. Google the recruitment for the SAS…**

**I bet you'll look at Hunter differently from now on (if he is not a character you particularly enjoy). Personally speaking, he's my favorite character.**

**(On a side note, Nick Blood plays the bass guitar in real life; he had to learn it when he played Stuart Sutcliffe for the play **_**Backbeat**_** and subsequently joined a band called ****Shaaark****. You can watch him playing bass on this YouTube video: "Backbeat at Amoeba February 4, 2013". He's not bad, but he isn't great either. He's average, giving the fact he had to learn it quickly to be able to play the role.)**

**Teaser for next chapter: Leo and Bakshi meet again.**


	32. Absolution - Part I

**(Trip is 19, Lance is 16), Grant is 15, Leo is 13, Jemma is 12 (23 days away from turning 13), Skye is 11 and Avalyn is 5.**

* * *

The man that played the organ at the church was sick and Minister Paul went to Leo, wanting him to play at the Mass until the organist was of good health again. Leo shrugged and accepted. Being the smartest kid in the whole town came with a price and news travelled fast indeed. Everyone knew how Leo, who had never had music lessons, managed to break down the musical scales while fooling around in the school's keyboard. Paul asked him to come to the church after school and gave him the music sheets of that week's songs that he needed to play. Leo only asked the man to tell him briefly explain him music notation (since he couldn't a music sheet) and then just began playing. Paul was amazed and left the boy playing alone.

It was a small town and there'd be no harm in leaving him alone for a few minutes. Sam didn't get to call home that often, apparently, and Paul was dying to speak with him. Leo was glad that at least, wherever Trip was studying, it wasn't as strict as the Air Force. However, Leo was still really angry at Trip for leaving. Why did everyone he like left him? He sighed and gave up on playing and took a seat on the first pew. Rolling up his shirt's sleeve, Leo unstrapped the wristwatch he always worn, even when his wrist was too small for the watch.

The wristwatch was an old Stowa - a German manufacturer - and it was dated from the early 1940's. The watch was made out of chromium and steel case, its leather strap was brown and its clock hands were blue. Its dial, that had once been white, had now taken a buff-ish color, result of the years passing by. On the case-back, there were scrawled the dates 1944, the year Leo's grandfather bought the wristwatch, 1979, the year Leo's father was born, and under it, Leo's birth year.

Sighing again, the teen strapped the watch onto his wrist again and rolled down his sleeve. He wasn't feeling in the mood to go home; it was his birthday, yes, he was turning thirteen, and Coulson and May always managed to surprise him, but Leo didn't really like his birthday.

A man walked in. His steps were strong but unhurried. Leo looked back and nearly cried. His eyes burned with unshed tears but he controlled himself.

"Pastor Tom or Minister Paul aren't here right now," he said barely on a whisper.

"It's alright," the man replied.

He took his hands off of his pockets and took a seat on the pew behind Leo. The two were in silence but inside both were unsettled.

"What are you doing here alone?"

"I was playing on the organ," Leo told him and then took a long, deep breath. "I'm supposed to play in this week's Mass. The organist is sick."

"You're a pianist then?"

Leo shook his head, "No. I just… I don't know what happens. I just… play it."

The man's heart skipped a beat. "Does anyone in your family play any instrument?"

"My Mama played piano."

_I know_, the man thought. "_Played_? What happened? Did she stop playing?"

"I don't remember her. I don't know what happened to her."

"That's…" the man sighed, "My name's Sunil. Sunil Bakshi."

"Leo," the boy said, finally learning about his father's real name.

The man got up and moved to Leo's pew, making small talk as he took a seat next to him, "Leo as in Leonard, Leonidas, -"

"Leopold. Like Mozart's father."

"I see," Bakshi said with a nod. "I can see why your mother picked such name."

"Uh," Leo began awkwardly, "if you're not looking for the Minister or the Pastor, then what are you doing here? Did you come here to pray?"

"I'm not religious. And I didn't come here to get absolution for my sins either. I don't think He forgives people like me."

"Pastor Tom says everyone gets a chance to be forgiven. Why wouldn't you get a chance?"

"I –uh..." Bakshi avoided the question and said with a smirk, "You know, you are as smart and cunning as my son. He must be about your age. How old are you?"

"Thirteen. It's my birthday today, actually."

_I know_, Bakshi meant to say, but told him instead, "Happy birthday," he offered a small smile.

"What happened to your son?"

Bakshi looked down. "I don't see him in years."

"Have you tried getting in touch?"

"He's better off without me."

"How do you know?" Leo unconsciously clenched his fists. "Everyone needs their father."

"Not my son. He _definitively_ doesn't need me. I don't even know if he'd remember me."

Leo insisted, "Have you tried getting in touch?"

"He probably hates me and he has every reason in the world to hate me. I'm a bad person but I love him," the man looked at the boy, "I really love him. And that's why I had to leave him."

"How come?"

"I was never a good man, but when I met his mother…" he smiled sadly, "she _almost_ changed me. And then I found out she was pregnant. I left. When it was just the two of us things were alright –"

Leo chocked up, trying not to cry, "You didn't want him?"

"I did. I never thought I'd want someone like I wanted that baby. When it was just me and his mother, I could break her heart and leave. I was a bad person, remember? But when she told me about the baby, I couldn't put them at risk."

"Are you sorry?"

Bakshi shook his head, "I wish I could be sorry, I wish I could be the father my son needed but… He's better off without me," he said, getting up.

Leo got to his feet and watched the man walking to the door, "How did you know I was here?"

The words echoed in the church and tore at Bakshi's heart.

He didn't even dare to turn to face him, "I'm always keeping an eye on you."

"Can I just at least get a hug? It's my birthday after all."

He nodded and turned. Leo ran at full speed to him, wrapping his arms around Bakshi's middle. He hid his face on his chest and cried.

"I'm sorry I'm not the person you want me to be."

"Try to be!" the boy begged in a whimper.

"You're better off without me, Leo. Trust me when I say so."

Bakshi untangled Leo from him but the boy grabbed his wrist, not letting him walk away.

"I still think you're good. If it matters anything to you."

"It means the world to me that you have faith in me but let it go. Give up, Leo. I'm only gonna let you down."

"I remember you. Every little thing… You were a good dad to me," Bakshi remained quiet and Leo continued, "I still have the Rubik's cube you gave me. And the wristwatch," he rolled up his sleeve and showed it to him. "And I still remember what you told me the day you left me."

"Then you remember I'm not good."

"But you left me behind so that must mean something, right?"

Bakshi didn't have a convincing answer to offer the teenager. Instead he took a paper sheet from the inner pocket of his jacket, "I've got you this."

"What is it?" Leo asked, grabbing the paper in his hands.

"Unfold it."

Leo unfolded the paper and realized it was a piano piece, "_Bonnie Wee Bairn_ by Maeve I. Fitz," he read and then looked up at his father.

"Your mother composed it when she found out she was pregnant with you," his lips drew into a small reminiscing smile. "It's the most beautiful thing I've heard in my life."

"Thanks. I don't have anything that is hers."

"You've got her looks, and her talent, and her intelligence."

The two lapsed into silence. Bakshi comfortably rested his hand in his pockets and began walking to the church's door.

"Maybe we'll meet some other day?" Leo asked hopeful, watching his father leaving _again_.

"Maybe. After all, you're the one person I can't say goodbye to."

After staring at the paper for a while, Leo walked to the piano, placed the music sheet on the stand and began playing his mother's composition. Bakshi hadn't left yet; he was leaning on the wall, hidden by a column, listening to him play. It took him back to the day Maeve played it for him. It was spine-chilling to hear it after so long, not to mention that the way Leo played it sounded exactly as Maeve did.

* * *

'**Bonnie Wee Bairn' means Beautiful Little Baby**

**Readers, readers, where are you people? I'm getting the feeling that you guys aren't excited about this fanfiction and that you've abandoned me. Let me know you're still reading. It's important.**

**(And yes, Absolution - Part 1 means that soon there will be a Part 2)**


	33. Guiding Light

**This idea was suggested to me by memorysdaughter a long time ago. The objective was to recreate the events of (FZZT) where Jemma was infected with the Chitauri virus. I used the recently information (that Jemma had scoliosis when she was little) and wrote this chapter, slightly basing it on the disease idea.**

**It also reveals the true reason why Fury was involved in Jemma's adoption, which hadn't been addressed before (MLN asked me that question, and here it is answered)**

* * *

**(Trip is 19, Lance is 16), Grant is 15, Leo is 13, Jemma is 13, Skye is 11 and Avalyn is 5.**

* * *

"What can you see?" Jemma asked curious, wanting to toss and turn and leave bed, but she couldn't. "Tell me, Leo," she said impatiently.

"Hold on," Leo chuckled. "I found your favorite," he told her whilst still peeking through the telescope. "Wow –"

"I know, I know it's beautiful," she whined, frustrated. "I wish I could see it."

Scoliosis had Jemma bedridden for two weeks now. She hated having to depend on others to do stuff for her, she hated having to lay in bed every day and night, muscles already sore and numb, she hated people being around her, keeping her company, but she also hated to be alone. Luckily, Leo listened to every of her complains but never took it personally. She was bored out of her mind, and he knew it.

Leo put down the telescope and crawled closer to her bedside, "Why is Pleiades your favorite constellation?" he asked, lying face up on the floor, heads under his head.

Jemma, in bed, lay on her side, so that she could look better at him, "You've just seen it. It's beautiful," her grin grew as she explained. "The cluster is dominated by blue, shining stars. Can you imagine how it'd feel like to float around in that vastness of cosmic dark, letting the starlight guide you? It must be amazing."

The teenage boy didn't have time to say anything. There was a knock on the door; a kick on the door, actually.

"Leo, open up the door for me please?" Coulson asked.

He promptly got to his feet and opened the door for his father who carried a tray with Jemma's dinner. Coulson put the tray over Skye's bed that was across from Jemma's, to help the girl push herself up to eat. While the man gently grabbed the girl, Leo adjusted her pillow so that she could sit up comfortably and still have her back fully supported.

"How do you feel sweetie?" Coulson asked whilst he put the tray over Jemma's lap and handed her the cutlery.

"I'm tired of being in bed."

Coulson stroked her hair, "Bear with it just a few more days." He turned to his son, telling him, "Go and have dinner. I'll stay here with Jem until she finishes eating."

Leo nodded and left, leaving the two of them alone.

"Is mom home already?"

"I spoke with her just a while ago. She said it shouldn't take her much longer to arrive. And she said she's bringing someone to see you."

Jemma's eyes lighted up, "Is he really coming?"

"He promised he'd visit you as soon as he found the time, didn't he?"

"He's been saying that for the past two weeks," Jemma pointed out and resumed eating.

"He's a busy man. But now he's here to visit you."

* * *

_12 years before_

_Young agents Coulson and May were called to Director Fury's office. They could only imagine that they were in trouble. After their mission in Sausalito, almost two years before, it got harder and harder for them to hide their relation. _

_It started out as something merely physical; May wound up in Sausalito's bay for five hours before Coulson got a hold of her. She was tired, angry – the commander of their mission sent them without an extraction plan but didn't tell them that – and completely soaked wet. When her good friend showed up and took her to the hotel room, so that she could change clothes, lust got the better of themselves. They woke up tangled in each other, clothes scattered all over the floor, pleased smiles on their faces and minds cleared of any regret. There was, however, the promise that that had been a onetime thing; they didn't want to ruin their friendship and partnership._

_They didn't keep up with the promise, and soon enough lust turned into something more. They were in Colombia, under a bullet haze, when he said that if they'd make it out alive that they should marry. They made it out alive and well, but his words were still ringing in the back of May's head weeks after the mission. It wasn't that she didn't love him (they had been dating for two years now), she just had her doubts. Their lifestyle didn't seem compatible with marriage, a family or a happy life. Coulson didn't speak about his proposal anymore; he sensed that she was in a tight spot and he'd very much preferred to keep her as a friend a partner than having to live without her. That was until one day May asked him if his offer was still standing. They eloped. They married in Italy and spent a month in honeymoon, traveling through Europe. _

_Coulson and May had been married for four months now, and upon knowing that they had been called to the Director's office, they could only imagine that he had found out why they had eloped. They feared being fired, but at the same time, they weren't too concerned with the thought; as long as they were together, they'd be alright. They had already bought a two-story house in the suburbs of New York, had been remodeling it, and were looking forward to have two children occupying the two bedrooms of the house. Work was pushed to second plan, their relationship being their top priority. After long-termed failed relationships (Coulson had dated a cellist named Audrey Nathan, and May had dated a psychologist, Andrew Garner), they found everything that had been looking for in each other. Everything else in life seemed easier to get through and not as important._

"_Let's just get it over with," May told her husband as he seemingly froze by the door of the Director's office._

_He smiled and strolled after her. Coulson loved how single-minded and brave she was. May opened the door and waited for Fury's indication to walk in._

"_Take a seat you two. How was Europe?" Fury asked, looking up from a file. _

"_It was nice," Coulson stuttered. _

"_The reason why I've called you here might be a bit ironic, to be honest," he showed them the file he was looking at. "Ruby and Jude Simmons, former SHIELD agents. Died –"_

_May furrowed her brows, "If this is because Phil and I married and –"_

"_They died in a car crash a few weeks ago. They left orphaned a daughter, Jemma, thirteen months old. She's my goddaughter." _

_There was silence; Coulson and May looked at the file again._

_Fury continued, "I want to find her a good home. There's no next of kin that she can be given to, so the social services want me to look after her but I can't. So, I'm asking you this, not as SHIELD's Director, but as a friend: look after Jemma until I find her a home."_

_Coulson promptly nodded his head, "Yes, of course. We'll keep an eye on her while you try to solve this."_

"_Thank you," Fury honestly said. "I'll leave her at your house tonight."_

* * *

"Uncle Nick!" Jemma cheered as soon as she saw him walking in her bedroom.

Coulson looked back and stood up, shaking the man's hand, "Jemma was wondering if you were really coming or not."

"I said I'd come as soon as I'd find time. Go on and have dinner," Fury clapped Coulson's shoulder. "I'll stay with her."

"Thank you," the other replied before leaving.

Fury took a seat in bed next to Jemma, "How are you feeling?"

"Bored, tired of being flat on my back. Wish I could be outside, looking at the stars instead. Leo managed to see Pleiades which just happens to be my favorite constellation. Ugh," he huffed and threw her head back, "help me."

"Your father loved the stars too. He used to tell the story of how humanity would come to an end and everyone would pin their hopes on a group of astronauts to go out and explore space and spread human life to another planet. According to him, soon the astronauts would realize that it was just one big cycle because unless humanity is capable of change, the end of humanity will happen all over again, whether on Earth or on another planet. Your mother would laugh, calling him the Great Master of Melodrama, and when you came along, he'd put you to sleep with this crazy story of his."

"Well, but he was right. If we don't change our ways, then there's no use moving to another place. It'll always be in our nature to be humans, both good things and the bad ones."

"If they were alive, you two would melt your mother's brain with these talks," he commented with a chuckle.

"You never told me about them," she said. "How were they?"

"Just look at yourself. You look just like your mother, got her courage, and you've got your father's intelligence and like things he liked. It's as if you've lived them your entire life, as if you've been raised you and taught by them."

"Maybe I have. Maybe my birth parents and my adoptive parents aren't that different."

Fury sighed, pondering on her words for a while, "They are not that different."

* * *

_Three months after giving Jemma to Coulson and May, Fury was back at their house. He believed he had found a suitable family for Jemma._

"_What brings you around?" May casually asked as she opened the door for Fury and let him walk in. _

_Fury noticed that the TV was on the cartoons channel, there was a pile of tiny clothes over the couch, waiting to be folded, and over the table were, among the dishware and cutlery for the adults, a sippy cup, a small spoon and fork and an also small plate. He gave up right then and there on the idea of giving Jemma to the family he had found. Coulson and May were the family that deserved to keep her. _

"_Where's Coulson?" _

_May tilted her head so that he'd follow her. Coulson was out in the backyard with Jemma, tossing her in the air, the baby girl giggling. He safely caught her in his arms on the way down and stopped tossing her, allowing Jemma to recover her breath. The baby looked up at the starry sky and threw her arms up, opening and closing her fists._

"_Lil' Be'r," she babbled._

"_Yes, that's the Little Bear constellation. How did you know that?" Pointing at the sky, Coulson continued, "See that bright star? That's Polaris, the North Star. If you follow it, it'll always guide you home."_

"_Dadda," Jemma said with a big toothy smile. "Up! Up!"_

_The proud smile on Coulson's face and the small, delighted smile that May tried to repress cemented Fury's thoughts._

"_You two want to keep her, don't you?"_

_May's eyes were focused on her husband and the giggly little girl, "More than anything."_

* * *

**Next chapter focuses on Grant, and it will be his departure as well. **


	34. The Handler

**Enchantedgirl1997 said that I do a good job describing Ward's character, so here it is, a chapter mostly dedicated to him.**

**Warnings: slightly gory chapter, with mentions of physical and psychological abuse over a teenager, and alcohol use.**

* * *

**(Trip is 19, Lance is 16), Grant is 15, Leo is 13, Jemma is 13, Skye is 11 and Avalyn is 5.**

* * *

Grant was glad no-one was home. He could spare the questions right now. He groaned with every step he took, hugging his stomach with his left arm, walking, better yet, dragging his heavy body, in an arched posture; his muscles burned, his eyes were vacant. Pain was blinding him and the sight of the staircase made him wish he was dead instead. Nonetheless, Grant managed to, in slow steps, climb up the stairs and collapse on the bathroom floor. He groaned throatily, rolling over, laying face up. Grant felt his body stiffen and his breath was too agonizingly quick for his ribcage to bear.

"I fucking hate you so much," he mumbled, baring his teeth.

He stood lying down on the floor until pain had numbed his muscles. Pushing himself up from the floor by holding to the edge of the washbasin and to the toilet, Grant looked at his face in the mirror. It looked as bad as it felt. His right eye was closed, swollen and red, blood furiously pumping in that area; thick, marron blood made a path from his nose and mouth down to his chin. After stripping off his shirt with much effort, Grant saw his torso covered in bruises that were taking purplish shades. His whole body shook at the sight because he no longer saw himself as a teenager but saw himself as a young boy who had just been beaten up by his father and older brother. Grant looked like life had been sucked out of his body.

The teenager was so fazed, staring at his reflection with fossilized eyes, that he didn't hear the front door opening, the keys jingling or Coulson's distressed voice and quick steps, following the trail of blood that led to the bathroom.

"Grant, look at me," Coulson cupped the boy's face, trying to revive his focus.

Grant's face was pale, felt cold and clammy. He couldn't hold the weight of his body on his own legs anymore and kept on collapsing towards Coulson. The man looped his arm around Grant's torso and lay him down on the floor. Only then he realized that his bruised and battered chest was the last thing he should be focusing on at the moment. The teen cupped his hand around a wound on his lower stomach. Coulson grabbed his hand gently - its knuckles were skinned and his bone fingers presented unusual shapes, indicating dislocation – and a small pond of blood splashed on the tiled floor. Gunshot wound. The man felt heat flooding his body, distress making his heart sorely tighten up, but he kept his cool. Grant was a few minutes away from falling unconscious and he needed to suture the wound.

"Grant," he gently tapped his face, "I need you to stay with me, alright? I'll get that bullet out of you, but you have to stay awake, ok?"

He nodded his head, making the effort to articulate, "'kay."

"I'll get – I -" Coulson got up to his feet and looked around, desperate, "I don't know what I'll get, but I'll find something to remove the bullet. Here," he pulled the towel from the towel rack and balled it up, pressing it on Grant's wound, "keep pressure and stay awake."

Coulson rushed down the stairs, stripping off his jacket, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves on the way, desperate to gather up improvised instruments to extract the bullet. He had done this before, but not to one of his children. That was something he never even thought he'd be doing, but there was Grant with a bullet lodged on his lower side of the stomach, bleeding and in pain.

He returned to the bathroom with an icepack, whiskey, a needle and thread.

"Drink," Coulson ordered, unscrewing the bottle's cap and handing it to Grant, "big gulps."

While Grant drank and spilled the booze over himself, his father rummaged through the cabinets, trying to find a scalpel, forceps and gauze pads. After finding them, he knelt on the floor and took the bottle from Grant's hand.

"This is gonna burn," he warned just before pouring whiskey over his wound. Grant wheezed and arched his back, but Coulson pushed him down, cleaning the injury. "Don't bite your tongue," he pated the teen's chest while grabbing the icepack, rubbing it around the wound so that the surrounding tissues would numb out. "Tell me how did this happen," he asked, trying to keep Grant awake.

Grant shook his head and gritted his teeth; he was not going to talk about that now. Thinking about Garrett and Brody enraged him and made him breath hard and fast.

"Alright, alright, alright, ok, it's ok," Coulson reassured him, "we don't talk about that now. Just focus on something else and I promise to do this as quick as possible."

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down. Once he prepared his mind for what was going to happen next, Grant nodded at his father, letting him know he was ready. Coulson held the scalpel in a gentle grip, making small incisions on each side of the wound that would allow a greater range of motion. Reaching then for the forceps, Coulson slowly introduced it into his flesh, trying to carefully locate and remove the bullet. Grant didn't even have the strengths to whimper, his moans dying out in his throat.

"I got it," Coulson announced, showing him the bloody piece of metal. "The worst's over. Now, before suturing you up, it's best if we take care of those fingers now. It'll hurt and you'll scream and rip the stitches."

Coulson grabbed Grant's wounded hand and with a few pushes and pulls, the bones cracked but returned to its original position. Grant let himself cry, not being able to cope with the pain anymore. Upon noticing that no organs had been damaged and that there was no internal bleeding, Coulson sutured him up quickly and applied dressings to the wound. After tending to his skinned knuckles, he wrapped Grant's hand in bandages and let him have another big gulp of alcohol. Treating his remaining bruises was easier now that Grant had already been through the big, sharp pains, and applying a cream to relieve the inflammation of his left side of the face was also an easy task.

"Thank you," Grant breathed, letting his eyes lull shut.

"C'mon, let's lie you down in bed," Coulson said, draping Grant's arm around his neck, to help him stand on shaky legs.

After lying him down in bed, the man took a seat next to him, "Let's give it a few hours for you to recover and then I'm getting a SHIELD doctor to come over and take a look at you. They know better." Breathing in and out thoroughly, Coulson asked him, "How did this happen? Who did this to you?"

Grant was drowsy from the pain and the alcohol and only shook his head, "When I feel better, a'right? It's a long story."

Coulson nodded his head, "Alright. When you feel better." He patted his son's leg, telling him, "I'm going to clean up the mess we've made and you try to rest. Anything and you call me, alright?"

"Okay," he mumbled, his eyes batting heavily.

However, as soon as his father exited the bedroom, Grant turned his head to the window sill. When he was a kid, he used it to his advantage to have his soldiers, cars and planes lined up there. It was because of Coulson that he grew found of collectibles as well. And even if now he was a fifteen-year-old and had boxed or given away all of his toys, there was one soldier that was still lined up on the window sill, looking at him. Gary. He was a mere two-inch soldier man, providing a salute. But for Grant, Gary was much more than that. He still remembered the day he got him. Grant was a six-year-old traumatized little boy who had recently been taken away from his abusive family, and he wasn't yet comfortable with this new family. In fact, he didn't pay any attention to Coulson for two months, until the day he decided to ask him to participate in a pretend play with him.

"_This is Garrison. You can call him Gary for short, I guess he won't mind," Coulson told the boy, offering a small smile, as he placed the small soldier on the window sill. Gary was now keeping company to fellow army comrades and to military vehicles. "He'll keep you safe."_

_Grant shifted in bed, tapping the toy's head with his index finger, "Toys can't keep people safe. They're... toys."_

_The man sighed. He should have known better that Grant would never be a normal child. Coulson didn't have to check under the bed for monsters because the boy knew that monsters weren't product of his imagination; they actually existed and took the form of people. Coulson knew that he'd never be able to make Grant believe that cuddly toys kept children safe while they slept. _

"_You're right," Coulson was forced to amend his statement. "But I can keep you safe. And every time you look at this little toy, you'll remember my promise," he looked at Grant, rubbing small circles in the back of his hand, "I'll never ever let anyone else harm you. And I'll keep you buying you more and more toy soldiers, so that you understand that I really mean what I'm telling you, so that you can look at all of them and remember my promise."_

* * *

After Grant disclosed how he had gotten injured and shot, Coulson and May were shocked. The teenager had expressed his desire to join SHIELD, and his adoptive parents didn't deny him such thing. Coulson especially, knowing that Grant wanted to be a "sheepdog" just like him. So, instead of going through normal high school, Grant was already enrolled in the SHIELD's Academy, and had already been assigned a Supervising Officer - Coulson's good old friend John Garrett. The two of them were spending some time together before the actual trainings at the Academy began; it was a sort of SO-rookie bonding time.

The man came to realize that Grant was still suffering from a very light form of PTSD and so he preyed on his weaknesses. Instead of making the teenager get over his issues and grow stronger, he stared to enjoy bullying Grant. When Garrett found out that the thing – in this case, the person – that scared Grant the most, he made him face his fear. Handing him a shotgun, the SHIELD agent drove Grant to the house his father lived after having been released from prison upon being diagnosed with a terminal brain cancer. Garrett told him to take revenge for everything his father made him go through. Grant walked in, fearful, and found Brody in the living room, napping on the armchair. He woke him up, nudging him with the shotgun. The two were mute, staring at each other. Grant felt an urge to throw up as fear froze his entire body.

"_If you're going to shoot me, do it at once," Brody mumbled as he got up. _

_He backed away a few steps, keeping the shotgun aimed at the man, "S-S-Stand back. I'll-I'll shoot you."_

"_Do it then," his father provoked and got closer until the barrel of the gun was pressed against his chest. "Shoot me."_

_Grant's hands shook and he began to breathe heavily, "I'll shoot you."_

_Brody snatched the shotgun from Grant's hands before he could stop him. The teen swallowed hard and continued to walk back. He was startled once he hit the couch and fell on his butt. _

Grant didn't exactly remember much after that. He only recalled his father getting closer, grabbing the collar of his T-shirt and forcing him to get back up on his feet. Brody barked some nasty, abusive things and then punched and kicked him, just like it happened when he was healthy and Grant was a helpless little boy. Garrett walked in upon hearing a shot, which was a little bit too late; he found Brody wielding his gun and Grant limp and sprawled on the floor, gasping. He was badly beaten up and with a bullet to the stomach.

* * *

Trip requested two days to go home and check on Grant. He wanted to make sure that idiots like Garrett and Brody hadn't destroyed his dream and determination of joining SHIELD. The older boy was pleased to know that Grant's confidence was actually boosted after the incident. He wanted to join the agency even more than before, so that he could protect people from all kinds of dangers.

But, despite Grant's apparent tranquility, Coulson and May were unsettled. But, if May was a lot better concealing what she was feeling, her husband was not. She kept calm and supportive, standing by Grant's bed for the following days, until she was certain he was showing signs of recovery. On the other hand, Coulson couldn't keep his head cool. He trusted his good friend to be Grant's supervising officer, to keep him safe, and instead his son was shot and beaten black and blue because of him. He felt absolutely terrible because he had once promised Grant that he'd never let anyone hurt him, and there he was again, bruised and battered. He had failed his promise… Coulson felt so sick, mad and disappointed that he couldn't think straight, but if there was one thing he knew was that he needed to get answers from Garrett.

(Three days after the incident Coulson received two letters at home; one was from SHIELD suspending him for indefinite time, the other one was from the hospital, notifying him to pay for Garrett's medical bill.)

However, in spite of everything that happened, when September came, Grant's wounds were healed, his things were packed and he was leaving to the Academy.


	35. End of the Beginning

**(Trip is 21, Lance is 18, Grant is 17), Leo is 15, Jemma is 15, Skye is 13 and Avalyn is 7.**

* * *

The girls' bedroom never felt as empty or sounded as silent as it did on that day. Practically all of Jemma's stuff had already been boxed and sent to England; May, Skye, Avalyn and Jemma only had to pack clothes and small personal items. Those weeks had been rougher than any other. Instead of saying goodbye to one of the kids, this time the family bid farewell to Leo and Jemma, both on their way to college. She would be studying biochemistry and he engineering. Jemma was the youngest person ever to be accepted in the Cambridge University.

Coulson exempted himself from helping. He was in the garage around his red Corvette, Lola. After Trip, Lance and Grant left home to go to SHIELD Academy and the RAF, the habit of calling him and May 'mom' and 'dad' started wearing off. He could understand; they had grown older, and Coulson and May weren't their blood parents. Each of the adopted kids knew that after leaving the Coulson's house, they'd be going back to their original surname and on record it'd be as if they'd never been adopted. But nothing could erase their memories, and no one wanted that. That was why Coulson excused himself from helping; it was his way of not yet dealing with Leo, and particularly, Jemma's departure. He couldn't imagine the thought of not hearing Jemma calling him 'dad' again.

She was the first child Coulson and May adopted, the first one who called him 'dad' and she was the one that made them go from a married couple to a family. For some reason, the thought of losing the first of his girls ached more than having said goodbye to Trip, Lance, Grant and Leo all together. Coulson couldn't bear the thought that after Jemma, Skye would soon start go to college, and he was dramatic enough to suffer in advance, already thinking of the day Avalyn would start high school. He couldn't believe that once there were seven children in the house, and in the next morning there'd only be two.

Leo wasn't packing his stuff just yet because he'd only move to the MIT dorms the following week. May suspected that Jemma's sadness had something to with that. The two of them had talked earlier that day and it ended badly; Leo left for a long walk (and still hadn't arrived home) and Jemma was on the verge of tears ever since. She didn't cry, though. Avalyn was in the bedroom, and so was their mother, and she didn't want to talk about it.

"This dress is so pretty, Jemma," Avalyn said, holding it against her body, checking her reflection on the mirror. "Are you gonna keep it?"

"You can keep it, Avalyn."

"Thanks."

When Avalyn happily hugged Jemma, thanking her for the dress, May saw tears brewing in the teenager's eyes.

"Avalyn, Skye?" May said. "Can you go and check if Leo has returned? And go tell your father to start dinner; it's getting late."

Skye nodded, "Sure. C'mon AJ," she called her little sister, holding her hand out to her. "We'll be right back to help ya, Jem."

As soon as the door closed and Jemma was alone with May, she hugged her mother and cried.

May tried to sooth her, hugging her tightly, "I know it's hard to go away but -"

"I talked with Leo," Jemma blurted. "Asked him why he wasn't coming to Cambridge. He said he wanted to be away from me." She cried harder, "What did I do wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong, Jem. He just needs time."

"Time for what?" Jemma took a step back, looking into her mother's eyes, "You know why he wants to be away from me, don't you?"

The woman swallowed hard and nodded, "Yeah, I do. I asked him the same thing. The two of you are so close that I couldn't understand why he chose to go to the MIT."

"And why is it?"

"He likes you."

"I like him too. He's my best friend in the whole world."

May pursed her lips, "He thinks he might like you a bit more than that."

Jemma was stunned, "We – we grew up together. He's like my brother."

"Except he's not. And he's not sure if this is just a crush or if he really likes you. That's why he chose to stay. He doesn't want things to be awkward between the two of you and ruin your friendship and closeness."

"This is a mess," Sitting on her bed, Jemma wiped her tears, "What do you and dad think of this?"

"We just want everyone to be happy, so we're trying to understand everyone and help in the best way we can. We couldn't care less if you two end up dating. Yes, you two grew up together, but you're not blood related and when it comes to love matters, things aren't always so plain and rational. You just have to go with the flow."

"So you don't find it weird?"

May offered a small smile, "No. Whatever happens, your father and I are ok with it. You two kind of remind me of the two of us when we were at the Academy: best friends, the dynamic duo of Operations, who ended up falling in love."

"But, what if Leo realizes it's not just a crush and I end up not feeling the same way? Am I gonna lose him just like that? He won't want to talk to me anymore and -"

"Jemma," her mother said softly, sitting next to her, "things will get back on track. Promise. Leo wouldn't do anything to ruin your friendship."

"He means a lot to me."

"I know," May draped her arm around Jemma's shoulder and pulled her closer to her embrace. "You mean a lot to him too."

"Should I talk with him again?"

"I think you should because you two will be in two different countries and it's best if you at least leave with a clear conscience, knowing that no one is hurt or angry. But you shouldn't tell him that you know the reason why he wants space; it'll make him uncomfortable. You just have to tell him that you respect his decision, because you do respect his decision, right?"

"Yes," Jemma nodded for emphasis. "I just… I just don't mean to screw this up."

"Alright. Then tell him just that. Tell you respect his decision and that you hope he uses the time wisely to think."

"I'll miss these talks," the teenager admitted.

"There's this device called 'phone' that allows people to talk with each other. And dare you not to call."

Jemma chuckled, "I would never think of that. Of course I'll call."

* * *

That was one of the few times in Coulson's life that he couldn't be objective. He couldn't look at Jemma, his eyes fixed on the floor as they waited for her to be called for the flight to London. Skye and Jemma hadn't stopped crying and hugging, and Avalyn had joined the crying duo not much longer after. May took long, deep sighs, unable to sketch any emotion at all, and Leo wasn't there. He said he was going to stay at home, which made Jemma burst into tears even before boarding on the plane. He was the one person she wanted to be there, to say goodbye to her.

Jemma hugged her father, crying on his shoulder. He stroked her hair and hugged her tight, continuously swallowing the lumps in his throat.

"I'm gonna miss you so much, kissy bear," he told her, his lips drawing into a small smile. "You and teddy monkey."

She chuckled quietly, remembering the earned nicknames. Jemma and Leo almost battled to know who was the cutest when they were little kids. He was nicknamed 'teddy monkey' because he clung to everyone like a monkey on a tree; he was a very cuddly boy while growing up. Hugging him felt like hugging a little teddy bear. She was nicknamed 'kissy bear' because she offer kisses to everyone. A kiss from her actually felt like that it could heal any ache and heartbreak.

"I'm gonna miss you too. I'm gonna miss you all."

"Good thing is that Lance is close. If you need anything, call him," Coulson advised, parting the hug.

"I will," she nodded, wiping away her tears. "I just really wished that -"

Jemma hushed, her eyes focused on the airport's entrance. Leo ran in, looking around, hoping that she hadn't embarked yet. He sighed relieved upon hearing everyone calling him and waving their hands in the air. She smiled and cried at the same, feeling glad that she wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to her favorite person in the world. Leo hugged her tightly as soon as he approached her.

"Sorry. I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye."

"Thank you for coming," she said between tears again. "I know why you want to stay."

Leo took a step back, "What?"

"I know why you want to stay and I respect your decision. I just… at least chat with me every now and then. It'll be hard for me to be miles away and I can't imagine not talking with you. Even if it's only for a minute or two -"

"I'll call," he offered a warm smile. "And we'll Skype. I won't stop talking with you because of…" he sighed and looked down. "I'll arrange my thoughts soon enough, don't worry."

"I'm gonna miss you," she told him, throwing herself at him on a hug.

"I'm gonna miss you too, Jem. Take care, 'lright?"

"You take care too."

Leo then joined May, Coulson, Skye and Avalyn watching Jemma walk to the boarding gate. She looked back (even though she had promised herself she wouldn't) and waved goodbye.

Coulson patted Leo's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, "You did well. You'd never forgive yourself if you hadn't come to say goodbye."

"I know."

"I can't believe we're driving you to Massachusetts tomorrow. This is one hell of a week."

Leo grinned, "On the bright side, now you only have to look after Skye and AJ."

"Ah," Coulson chuckled, "the troublemaker duo. They'll keep us busy, that's for sure."


	36. Touch Too Much

**(Trip is 21, Lance is 18, Grant is 17, Leo is 15, Jemma is 15), Skye is 13 and Avalyn is 7.**

* * *

"Daddy!" Avalyn screeched, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Hurry up!"

Coulson made it to the ground floor and walked to the door carrying a duffel bag. He shot his younger daughter a reprimanding look, "That was not nice, Avalyn."

She looked down, her cheeks reddening, "Sorry. I'm just excited."

"Alright, but you can be excited without yelling, can't you?"

"I guess," she shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

He couldn't resist her charms and ended up chuckling and pressing a kiss onto her hair, "Ok, dad's not angry. Just, try to keep calm alright? You're staying the weekend over at your friend, not going for vacation in Hawaii."

"We could go to Hawaii," Skye said, coming down the stairs.

Coulson's eyes widened, "Why are you carrying so much in that bag? I think your mother and I agreed on a weekend at your friend's too, or did we say a month and weren't aware?"

"I'm barely carrying anything in here," Skye told him.

"I'm not gonna argue. I've never won an argument with a woman before. Anyway," he shook his head, "are you girls ready?"

Avalyn looked down at her red socks and wiggled her toes, "Almost."

"Skye, help her put on her shoes, please," he told her, walking to the kitchen.

May was trying to prepare dinner for the two of them, but if there was something that May wasn't was a good cook. Coulson came up behind his wife, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek.

"Why don't you take the girls to their friends' houses? I can cook dinner."

She tilted her head to look at him, "I feel that your offering has second intentions."

"I need your help to I know if I'm not rusty," May turned in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck, sending him a look. "Not in that wa – ok, maybe later tonight I'd like to know about that too, but you know I have a mission on Monday. Undercover, black tie event. I expect some dancing to be involved. I mean, there's always dancing at a gala and it's been -"

"Phil," she tried to suppress a smile "stop rambling and cook. I'll take the girls to their friends'."

"Ok," he breathed and smirked. "Sorry. I sometimes ramble a bit."

"I know, we've been married for 18 years," she told him on the way out the kitchen.

"And you still haven't got used to it," he chuckled, turning to the counter.

"Phil?" she backed a few steps. "Do you know how long it's been since we've had the house for ourselves?"

"Mom!" Skye and Avalyn impatiently call out.

"Take them," he smirked and winked, "And don't worry about a thing."

* * *

Coulson scratched the back of his head as he looked at the dining table. The candles looked nice, the music was soft, calm and created a nice ambient – his old vinyls never let him down – and then he stared at the two plates with food. Spaghetti with bacon. He chuckled, embarrassed. Spaghetti with bacon for a romantic dinner. Luckily he wasn't single and wasn't trying to conquer a woman. If he was, after that night's dinner, he'd still be single. While May didn't arrive, he checked himself on the mirror. He buttoned his jacket, then unbuttoned it and laughed quietly again.

"This is ridiculous," he talked to himself. "This is your wife. And you are not a teenager. Get yourself together."

However, he did check himself on the mirror one last time, undid his tie and stripped off his jacket. He looked better like that, and May had told him so many times. As much as she loved to pull him by his tie and undo it, she preferred it when he didn't wear a tie. She loved to grab him by the waistband of his pants and pull him closer.

Coulson heard the keys turning in the lock and rushed downstairs to his wife at the door, "Hey, you're back," he greeted with a smile, helping her stripping off the jacket.

"Too early?"

"No, no. You arrived at the right time," he grabbed her hand and guided her to the dining room.

"I leave for almost an hour and you cook pasta?" May asked with an unimpressed tone.

"Nothing says "I love you" like pasta and bacon," he chuckled, his face getting too hot all of the sudden. "Sorry hon, but it was the best I could cook given the time and the ingredients. But I did add some spicy stuff and we'll get to open that wine bottle your father gave us from his trip to Oporto. You know there's nothing better than Port wine. And, well," he gestured to the table, "I lighted some candles and I've got no tie." Coulson pull out her chair and signaled with his head for her to take a seat.

"Alright, I was being pretentious and trying to tease you. Port wine is really good, the candles were a nice touch and you do look better without a tie."

"Good," he said, taking a seat across from her. "I'd be disappointed if I couldn't please you anymore."

At the first bite of pasta, May puffed and drank a bit gulp of wine, "Didn't expect it to be so spicy."

"I warned you. But, you don't like it?"

"No, it's good. I was just not - Phillip James Coulson, are you trying to get me drunk on Port wine?"

"No," he laughed. "Maybe. Alright, yes. But I'll be drunk too, so don't worry."

She smirked as she shook her head, "Can't remember when the house was this silent. It's been a pretty long time since we had time for ourselves."

"I know. Today's dinner was a bit of improvisation but tomorrow we're having dinner at that new restaurant that opened downtown, the seafood one."

"That one seems expensive and I'm sure that you need to book a table some weeks in advance."

"I know. That's why I already took care of that."

May furrowed her brows, "You did?"

"Yeah. It's not every day that you celebrate eighteen years of marriage. I'm a man, and I know that men usually forget big dates, but I could never forget tomorrow's. I married the most amazing woman in the planet and till this day I still can't believe my luck. I never thought that anyone could be this happy, but I am, and I know it's because of you."

She took a deep breath and looked down, "I – uh – don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything," he placed his hand on top of hers, stroking its back. "Since the day I met you, I knew that you weren't the most verbal person in the world, but when you love, oh dear God, you can prove your point just right."

The sound of their laughs mingled in the air. May blinked quickly and looked down, trying to stop a tear that rushed down her face, but it rolled down faster before she could wipe it.

"I love you. More than words can describe," May bit her lower lip and only then looked into his eyes. "You're my best friend, my partner, and I can't imagine my life without you. You mean a lot to me, Phil. A lot."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and offered a gawky smile, "We should be doing this tomorrow."

"You're right," she nodded. "Today you get me drunk and we dance, and tomorrow we put on nice clothes and go to a nice restaurant and celebrate our anniversary."

* * *

They drunk and laughed and danced for the rest of night. Well, they danced until their hands start going too low and they moved things to the bedroom.

The next day, they almost miss their dinner reservations and as soon as they got back home, they enjoyed their last night alone before Coulson's mission, and before they got the girls in the house again.

In a matter of days, May was complaining about 'the damn oysters that caused her food poisoning', because it had been three days and she hadn't stopped throwing up.

* * *

**Just try to guess what happens next... :p**


	37. Where Do Babies Come From?

**Chapter suggested by annavale23.**

* * *

**(Trip is 21, Lance is 18, Grant is 17, Leo is 15, Jemma is 15), Skye is 13 and Avalyn is 7.**

* * *

"Skye!" Avalyn shouted, standing right next to her.

The teenager was sitting in her bed, laptop over her legs, doing some petty hacks, ears muffled by the headphones that blasted loud music. Avalyn tapped Skye's shoulder, causing her to shake, startled.

"Dammit, AJ," Skye whined, hanging the headphones around her neck.

"I need to ask you something."

Sighing, Skye paused the music, "What?"

"Where do babies come from?"

"I – uh – don't know," she answered, cheeks reddening. "Ask mom."

"She went to her bedroom. Said she's feeling sick and doesn't want me there. Tell me 'cause I know you know," Avalyn said, pointing her finger at her sister.

"I don't know," Skye lied again.

"Ok, then Skype with Jem. She'll tell me. She's super smart."

Looking at the time on the corner of the screen, Skye affirmed, "It's late in Cambridge right now."

"Skype with Leo then," Avalyn insisted.

The two stared into each other's eyes; Avalyn crossed her arms over her chest, determined in getting an answer, and Skye simply sighed and logged onto Skype. Avalyn let out a quiet 'yes!' in sign of victory.

"Hey Tremors," Leo greeted between a yawn, rubbing his eyes.

"Shut up, Doctor Fitzy," Skye grumbled, "it was _one_ time."

"I believe you. I don't think people will ever trust you with a tray of glasses again."

Skye rolled her eyes, "Ava-Jo wants to ask you something."

"Hey AJ, didn't see you there," Leo excitedly waved his hand when Skye turned the laptop and saw Avalyn standing next to her. "How are ya?"

"Where do babies come from?"

"Straight to the point," the teenager nodded his head. "Well, a stork brings them from Paris."

"I'm not five, Leo. I know you have to kiss a boy to get pregnant but how does the baby get in there?"

"Ok, well, glad you know that already," Leo grinned, slightly relieved with the answer. "So, when two people really like each other, they fall in love, and they hold hands –"

"But you get cooties if you hold hands with a boy!" Avalyn said terrorized.

"Exactly, that's why you can only hold hands with a boy after he has had his cooties shot, which happens when he's about eighteen-years-old. Anyway, going back to the babies' part. The man puts a seed in the girl's stomach and nine months later, they have a baby."

"That's a stupid story," the girl claimed. "Skype with Lance," she said at Skye.

"Ah, no, don't do it," Leo warned. "Skye, for the love of God, don't Skype with Lance."

"Why not?" Avalyn stopped her foot, "Lance always tells me everything."

"Lance is at a faraway place, AJ," Skye explained, "and he can't Skype with us whenever we want."

"Fine," she sighed, "can I call Grant or Trip then?"

"Sure," the other one replied. "You can use my phone."

Skye and Leo talked for a while more while Avalyn talked over the phone with her older brothers. None of them offered a convincing answer, which led Avalyn to get upset. But she knew someone that would tell her the truth. Leaving Skye's bedroom, she skipped down the stairs and sat at the couch, turning on the TV. She'd patiently wait for her father to come home, because dad never lied and he'd tell her the truth about babies. Upon hearing the door opening, Avalyn scrambled off the couch and ran at full speed, meeting her father at the door.

"Daddy? I need to ask you something. I've asked _everyone_," she dragged the word on purpose, "but no one knows the answer."

"Hi sweetie," Coulson answered, picking her up in his arms after stripping off his jacket. "Tell me, what is your question?"

"Where do babies come from?"

Coulson opened his mouth to speak but was mute. He knew that Avalyn was at that age where she questioned everything, which included the questions that got adults too embarrassed to answer.

"Well?" she crooned, impatient.

"Well," he repeated in a sluggish way, trying to buy himself some more time to think. Coulson walked to the living room and put Avalyn on the couch, "Why do you want to know where do babies come from?"

She leaned over the edge of the couch to get a good look of her father, "'Cause today I was playing with Mom and when I bumped against her belly, she said that I had to be careful 'cause she has a baby in there. How did it get in there?"

"She said that?" his voice came out strangled, his eyes burning because of unshed tears.

"Uh-huh. How did it get in her belly?"

"Why – uh – why don't ask that to Skye? Dad has to talk with Mom right now, ok?"

Avalyn sighed and threw her head back, "I've asked Skye already."

He was long gone, on a search for his wife, and didn't hear his daughter complaining.

"May?" he called, peeking in every room. "Mel, where are you?"

Skye stepped out of her bedroom, headphones hanging around her neck, "Mom has been in the bedroom for a long time now. She doesn't seem okay. I've tried to speak with her but she told me to go away and keep an eye on Ava-Jo until you'd arrive."

"You know, it's late," he quickly checked the hours in his wristwatch. "Why don't you order pizza for yourself and AJ? My wallet is in my coat."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's ok, angel eyes. Now do what I've told you, please."

The teenager nodded, feeling almost compelled to believe and accept what she had been told. She knew things weren't alright, but she also knew that no one would tell her what was going on. Skye walked downstairs and picked up the phone to order pizzas as she was told, and kept Avalyn entertained so that she wouldn't go upstairs.

Coulson knocked on the door of their bedroom, waiting for an answer. He called his wife's name, but as he didn't get a response, he walked in slowly. May was lying down in bed, back turned to the door.

"Skye, I've told you I'm alright," May spoke with a husky voice. "Keep an eye on Avalyn, please."

"It's me," he simply told her.

May pushed herself up, sitting in bed, "You're home already."

He took a seat next to her, "Avalyn wants to know where babies come from. Said that you told her that you've got –"

"I'm forty-seven," she looked at her lap and breathed in thoroughly. "What are we going to do about it, Phil?"

May looked him in the eye, to gauge what he wanted to do about it. He looked inscrutable; he certainly looked surprised, but he didn't look appalled.

"Do you want this baby?"

"Babies," she corrected. "Went to the doctor today. He said they're twins, fraternal."

"Alright," Coulson muttered, trying to sound calm as surprise washed over his body again.

"He also said that this is a very risky pregnancy. But it's a viable pregnancy, as long as I follow all of his recommendations."

"Then what's the problem?"

She shrugged, holding back her tears and avoiding looking at him again, "In a way, I sort of wish that these babies hadn't happened, but I know my legs won't take me to a place where I can get rid of them. But, this wasn't planned and I'm too old to be pregnant."

"I want a straight answers from you, okay?" Coulson grabbed her hands on his, "Do you feel that you can go through with the pregnancy, be strong and well and deliver two healthy babies?"

"Phil –"

"Yes or no?"

"I think I can."

"Do you want these babies? Just tell me what you really want, because your decision will be, indisputably, my decision too."

"You've got a saying as well. I can't, and won't, decide for the two of us."

"Yes you will. Because it'd never cross my mind to force you to do something you don't want to. This is a difficult pregnancy, there are a lot of risks involved, and it'll be you carrying these babies. My only role in all of this will be taking care of you, and believe me, I'll do the best I can. You are the one person I love and care and respect the most in the world and if you -"

Her jaw tensed. May looked up and said, resolute on her answer, "I want these babies. I know I can do this. And I know I want them as much as you want them. They may have not been planned, but that doesn't mean that I - that we - don't love them already. Avalyn wasn't planned either, but if I could go back in time, I wouldn't change a thing."

"Then let's get ready for the arrival of the twins." He put a kiss on her forehead, leaving a warning, "But you've got to promise me that you'll do everything the doctor says. The three of you need to be in perfect shape _every day_. This will be a difficult pregnancy but you're the strongest person I've ever met and we'll all be here to help you the best way we can."

Overwhelmed by pregnancy hormones and an undying love for her husband, May couldn't stop the tears that dropped down her face, "I – Just when I think I can't love you more, you – I love you more than anything in this world, you know that, don't you?"

"I love you too," he confessed, pecking her lips.

May reached for the ultrasound that was over the bedside table and showed it to him. The twins were nothing more than two blurry jelly beans in the scan, but the couple already love them. They hadn't been planned, but they were not unwanted. It was extraordinary how two eggs and two sperm cells that were nearly half a century old turned into human beings – a baby boy and a baby girl, they'd find out in ten weeks.

After getting a notification on her phone, Skye left Avalyn eating in the living room, going back to her bedroom to check on her computer. Lance was online and had started chatting with her, telling her he had some time to Skype with the family. Skye started setting a group call with her siblings, hoping that Jemma was still awake despite the late hours (it turned out she was still awake and participated in the chat too). While it was ringing, waiting for everyone to answer, Skye walked to her parents' bedroom.

Knocking lightly on the door, she poked her head inside, "Just to let you guys know that Lance is on Skype. He says he has some twenty minutes to chat with us. I'm trying to get everyone in a group call. I'll be downstairs –"

"Lance!" Avalyn's happy screech echoed throughout the whole house.

She had followed her older sister upstairs…

"Oh God!" Skye said, darting to her bedroom.

"I guess we can tell everyone the news now," Coulson suggested, holding May's hands and helping her stand up.

"I guess we can."


	38. Dad Rocks

**This chapter took me a little longer to write, mainly because I didn't know exactly what I wanted to write. Then I decided to write this; I won't be spending time exploring the twins, and I figured Coulson needed a dad centric chapter, just like May had (check chapter 10). So here it is: Coulson's interaction with each of his kids in different moments of their lives.**

**Another thing: the cover image changed. There you can see how the kids looked (and how the twins look like) when they were below the age of 10. If you are reading this story after it is completed, this image I'm talking about will be in my profile, you can check it there. (Yes, the cover image will change again, in the last chapter)**

* * *

Dads make bad jokes. All dads, no exceptions.

Trip walked in the kitchen, scratching his tummy and yawning. Coulson was preparing breakfast, tie hanging loose around his neck, still untied, and May was putting Jemma in her high chair. The boy promptly took a seat, and after serving the toddler her breakfast, May pressed a kiss onto Trip's head and walked out of the kitchen to get dressed up. Even though he had only been welcomed to the Coulson's family a couple of months ago, he was already fully integrated in the family dynamics.

"Dad, I'm hungry," Trip mumbled, supporting his elbows on the table surface and propping his chin on his hands.

"Hi hungry, I'm dad."

Trip rolled his eyes and swung his legs under the table, making funny faces at his little sister. Once he finished preparing breakfast, Coulson put a glass of juice and a plate with scrambled eggs in front of Trip.

"Here you go, Hungry. Enjoy breakfast."

The boy sighed, picked his fork and started eating.

"How are the eggs?" Coulson asked whilst feeding Jemma.

Trip hummed, "Good."

"You mean _egg_cellent?"

"Oh God…" Trip covered his face with both hands and shook his head.

* * *

Dads do reckless things with their even more reckless kids.

Coulson was still inside the mechanic's shop, paying for the repairs done on Lola, when he heard Lance making too much noise, and the Corvette honking. Coulson didn't like anyone touching Lola, and the idea of a mechanic fixing her sent chills down his spine, but bringing Lance to pick up his precious red Corvette was even more spine-chilling. That boy was a precious soul, but he was a load of trouble; his intentions were good but they never worked out as he idealized them.

"What are you doing?" his voice came out sterner than he expected.

The boy was sitting in the driver's seat, hands were still holding the steering wheel, when he looked at his father and froze.

"Nothin'" he said, moving to the passenger's seat.

When Coulson returned, Lance had already climbed onto the backseat and fastened the seatbelt. During the ride, he could feel Lance's gaze burning a hole in his back.

Gazing at him through the interior rearview mirror, Coulson asked, "Is there something wrong?" Lance simply shook his head. "Are you upset because I shouted at you in the mechanic's shop?"

"No," he mumbled.

"Because I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout or sound mad. I just don't like people touching Lola."

"I just wanted to drive her," the boy disclosed. "Just for a bit."

Coulson didn't say anything, remaining quiet until they entered their neighborhood. He stopped the car, unfastened his seat belt and stepped out of the Corvette.

"Why are we stopping here?"

"Come on," Coulson tilted his head in the general direction of the driver's seat, "I'm letting you ride Lola."

Lance's eyes sparkled and he quickly climbed onto the driver's seat, giggling a bit manically because of the excitement. He immediately firmed his grip on the car's steering wheel and turned the key in the ignition, but obviously the engine didn't start.

"Wait a second there," Coulson chuckled, sitting at the passenger's seat. "Look at the pedals first. From left to right there's the clutch, the brake and the gas pedal. Now, the car won't start if you're not stepping on the clutch as you turn the keys in the ignition. After its working, you slowly lift your left foot and press the gas pedal with your right foot. I'll handle the gearshift. You'll step on the clutch whenever I'll say that I'm changing gear."

"Are you seriously letting me drive her?"

"Why not? You just have to drive slowly. This is a quiet neighborhood but someone can pop up out of nowhere."

"And if I can't stop and run over them?" Lance asked, concerned.

Coulson smiled, tapping the hand brake lever, "Don't worry. I've got the hand brake. Want to drive or not?"

Lance pressed his foot on the clutch and turned the key in the ignition, starting the car, "Oh yeah!"

* * *

Dads are patient.

"How did it go today?" May asked, lying down in bed, crossing one ankle over the other.

Coulson sighed, unable to wipe the silly smile off his face, "You should have seen him, May." He brushed Grant's hair off his forehead, watching sleep peacefully. "He fell asleep right after dinner, absolutely worn-out. He ran that whole field back and forth; Tom Brady was out of this world. He played with Grant for a good half an hour and joined us on the visit to The Hall. I had never seen Grant smiling so much. Or laughing for that matter."

Grant was a big enthusiastic fan of the New England Patriots, and so Coulson tried his best to give him the chance to visit the stadium. It turned out that, with Fury's help, the two of them got to visit not only the stadium and The Hall, but they'd also have the chance to meet with Tom Brady.

"Well, you did make his biggest dream become reality. For someone who never had anyone who cared about him, this meant the world to him."

"Thank you."

"For what?" May asked confused.

"For letting me do this. We both know that Grant trusts you more and that he isn't yet comfortable with me. I really hope he understands that I'm not the same person his father was."

May sighed, "He will understand. You have to give him time."

"I will give him all the time and space he needs, but I feel so useless sometimes. I'm sure he won't talk to me once we're home."

"Phil…"

"It's alright," he swallowed hard. "I'm willing to wait for him to trust me."

Bewilder without knowing what else to say to console him, May changed the subject, "You should get some sleep. You two will have a lot to visit in the city and you'll want to be energetic enough to keep up with him."

"You're right. G' night."

"'Night."

Coulson set his phone over the bedside table and stood up to go to sleep, as he had been sitting on the edge of Grant's bed. He felt the boy grabbing his hand and so he looked back. Grant was quiet, staring him with sleepy eyes.

"Go back to sleep, bud. We have a big day tomorrow."

"Thanks, dad."

Coulson leaned over to press a kiss onto Grant's hair, "You're welcome, kid." Stroking his hair, he asked, "You know I'm not like _him_, right?"

Grant nodded and then added, "I know. I just need –"

"A little more time, I know. One day at the time and we'll get there."

* * *

Dads raise their boys to be John Rambo.

After learning that Leo was bullied at school, Coulson's stomach flipped. He was suspended after the stun grenade incident and the executive council agreed, unanimously, that he had to be transferred to another school. Coulson didn't want any of the situations to happen again, so he was single-minded on physically training Leo so that he could evade or defend himself from bullies.

"Boys, come to the backyard, please," Coulson called from the bottom of the staircase.

May looked out the window in the kitchen and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest, waiting for her husband to walk past her.

"Have you seen it?" he asked, excited, pointing out the window.

"Your Rambo obstacle course? Yes, I did," she said unfazed.

Coulson sighed and explained, "Trip and Lance practice sports, and Grant just started taking boxing lessons. Leo doesn't do any physical activities and I…" he looked down at his feet, "I don't want him to get bullied again. A few weeks ago they broke his arm, and then what next? Another bully will crack his head open and –"

She cupped his face in her hands and pressed a kiss on his forehead, "Just put some sunscreen on them. Especially on Leo. He gets sunburns so easily."

"I thought you were you going to stop me or say I'm insane," he gave a small smile.

May shrugged and said over her shoulder before walking out the kitchen, "Boys will be boys. I'll be in the office room."

* * *

Dads are not lazy; they are selective participants.

Jemma sighed disappointed as she yet failed to put together her science project. Dad was supposed to help her put together her science project, which was an impressive scale model of the Solar System. Leo helped her with the mass and distance calculations, but after that she was on her own. Well, she did ask Coulson for help but he clearly forgot when he sat on the couch to watch a baseball game. Displeased with the situation, and noticing how much work she still had to do, Jemma did the right thing: she phoned the one person that could make Phil Coulson get to work in two seconds.

"Mom?"

"Jemma? Why are you calling?" May's voice came out strangled. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah… I mean, no."

"What happened?"

She sighed and sat at the porch steps, "Dad was supposed to help me with my science project but he's watching baseball. Didn't even notice when I passed by him to get the phone… I have so much work still left to do, mom," she wailed.

"Put him on the phone." Just as Jemma was about to get up, May barked from the other side, "Ten more laps!"

"Uh?" the girl grunted confused.

"I'm not talking with you. Get your father on the phone."

Jemma approached Coulson and tapped him on the shoulder, handing him the phone, "Mom wants to speak with you."

"Mel, is everything alright?"

"No, it's not," she was pissed. "Get your lazy ass off the couch and help Jemma with her science project."

"I'm not being lazy. Let's just be honest, she's the smartest in this house when it comes to science. For what could she possibly need my help?"

"Anything. Maybe she needs you to help her with heavy things or dangerous materials or God knows what. Or maybe she just needs her father to keep up with her promise."

Coulson swallowed hard after hearing that, "Alright, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me." The two of them were quiet for a few seconds until May resumed, "And if I were to walk in the house right now, I think I'd find Lance and Grant wrestling in the hall, Skye climbing up the kitchen counters to get to the cookies jar, Leo jumping on the bed, Trip throwing the baseball at the wall in his bedroom and Jemma going back to her science project and potentially getting hurt."

Coulson heaved a long, deep sigh. He liked to be called out when he was doing something wrong, but he didn't like to be called out when he was being a bad father. He hated it when, for one reason or another, he could be labelled as a bad dad, but, looking after six children and doing house chores wasn't easy; sometimes he just needed a break, and he knew that his wife shared the thought.

"I'm so tired. Taking the kids to the pediatrician, doing laundry and cleaning up after their mess –"

"I know, I understand. But they don't understand that. They just want us to be there for them. You can watch the game's recap later, alright? Now, I need you to prepare something for dinner and to parent our children. Three more hours I'm home and you catch your breath."

He breathed deeply again and told her before hanging up, "Love you."

* * *

Dads know everything. And if they don't, they can make something up really quickly.

Coulson was lying face up on the couch and Skye was sprawled over his chest, head tucked his chin. The two were watching TV, Coulson hoping that Skye would fall asleep soon enough; it was far too late for her to be awake. In fact, they were the only two people who were still up.

"Dad?" Skye lifted her head and patted his chest as he was almost sleeping.

"Yeah?" he said with a husky voice, blinking his eyes in an attempt to stay awake.

"You said that ice cream truck only plays a song when they run out of ice creams."

He frowned; why was she talking about the ice cream truck now?

"It's true. Why are you asking about it now?"

She pointed to the TV screen, "'Cause they heard the ice cream truck and went to get 'ce cream."

Crap, the cartoons! Coulson blinked hard and pushed himself up, cradling Skye closer to his chest.

"Well, that's because it's different from place to place."

"They live in New York too," Skye pointed out, starting not to believe her father.

"You see, they live in downtown New York and we live in a neighborhood. In here, people buy ice creams when they see the ice cream truck passing by, but in the big city, there's so much noise and so many cars that that sometimes people don't even see the truck passing by. That's why he plays the song in the city but not here."

"Ah," Skye tilted her head, "makes sense."

Coulson sighed, relieved; she believed it.

"How about we get some sleep? Everyone's sleeping already and we should too."

"Okay," she muttered, sliding down his lap.

* * *

Dads can't say no. Especially to their little girls.

"Dad, it's getting late," Avalyn impatiently called, bouncing up and down, absolutely ecstatic.

"We still have six hours, Duracell Bunny," Coulson smiled and looked back, throwing the dish cloth over his shoulder. "Calm down."

Avalyn let out a long sigh, "There's gonna be a bunch of people in front of us and then I won't see anything."

"It's a concert, Ava-Jo," he reminded her, putting away the dishes in the cabinet. "It matters if you listen to it, not much if you see the –"

"It's One Direction, it matters!" Avalyn claimed as if it was the most important thing of her life (which, at the moment, it kind of was). "I really wanna see Liam."

"He's upstairs, sweetie," Coulson joked, storing the tableware in the cutlery tray.

"Liam Payne, dad," she was serious, and yet he was still smiling. The girl brushed her side swept bang off her forehead with her hand, "We're gonna be late," she repeated, leaving the kitchen.

Coulson had only the slightest clue of what he was getting himself into. Avalyn begged him for days on end to go to One Direction's concert. Three 'pretty please' and her best puppy dog eyes were all it took to conquer her father's soft heart. Getting the tickets was easy; Coulson knew people everywhere. All he had to do was go to the concert with her… and two other girls from her class. Upon hearing from Avalyn that her father was taking her, the mothers asked Coulson if he could take their daughters too. He said yes; what harm would two more girls make?

"Oh God," he said to himself upon realizing what he had to go through in the next eight hours.

"Something wrong?" May asked, standing right behind him, twins perched on each side of her hip. Coulson hadn't even heard her enter or the twins babbling.

He swirled on his wheels, panic spreading across his face, "Take AJ to the concert."

May smirked, putting Liam and Juliet in their high chairs, "Oh no. You said yes, now you bear with it."

Coulson swallowed a lump in his throat, listening to Avalyn singing at the top of her lungs, "_And we danced all night to the best song ever. We knew every line, now I can't remember. How it goes but I know that I won't forget her. 'Cause we danced all night to the best song ever_. _I think it went oh, oh, oh. I think it went yeah, yeah, yeah. I think it goes!_"

"I need to learn how to say 'no', don't I?"

"Yes."

* * *

Dads can't help but to laugh, even when they're not supposed to laugh.

Liam was now a pro crawler, but it took him some time to learn how to properly crawl through the whole house and force his parents to leave all doors locked.

He started by getting on his knees and rock back and forth, without knowing how to get one knee in front of the other. He simply hopped his knees forward by kicking with a foot. Noticing that this wasn't the right approach, Liam tried another stage of learning. He got on his hands and feet and fussed because he didn't understand why it didn't lead to standing upright walking. Coulson couldn't help but to chuckle, but seeing how frustrated Liam would get, he decided to crawl around for a while to show him what she should be shooting for. It only led to more laughter. He got stance right, but when he moved, he was going backwards slowly. Funny enough he giggled till his cheeks were bright red, and seemed really proud of his accomplishment.

Coulson laughed way too much when, one day after searching for a whimpering Liam, he found him stuck under the couch on all fours, butt trapped, head peeking out. The baby wasn't too concern or bothered with the fact that he was trapped under the couch. Rather, he was whimpering because he couldn't grab his toy rattle.

Now that Liam had finally perfected his crawling stance and the direction, no one could stop him. Coulson heard the clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen.

"What are you doing, little guy?"

Liam gave a gummy smile and hit with the pot on the floor, amused by the sound of it.

"I guess I have to put locks on the cabinet doors too, uh?" he commented to himself, tickling the boy's sides.

The baby giggled as Coulson picked him up in arms, "Alright," he continued, "let's get you in the carrier too. Dad has a lot to do around the house and I can't afford to have the dynamic duo crawling everywhere."

Obviously Liam wasn't happy with his father's decision, squirming and whining. Despite the protest, Coulson put him in the baby carrier and strapped it to his chest. Just as he was about to put Juliet in her own carrier and strap it to his back, he burst out laughing.

"You two are going to be the death of me, aren't you?" he said among chuckles.

Now it was Juliet the one trapped under the couch…

* * *

Dads know magic, full stop.

"Melinda?" Coulson asked, standing at the end of the bed, undoing his tie knot.

He chuckled quietly, seeing how his wife was working in auto-pilot mode, Juliet cradled in her arms, gently tapping her bottom so that she would fall asleep. The only thing wrong about the picture was that Juliet was waving her tiny hands in the air, playing and tugging on a few of her mother's hair locks, and May's head was hanging low, her eyes closed.

"Melinda," he whispered, now taking a seat by her side.

She woke up startled and promptly looked up.

"It's not working," he teased with a smirk, looking down at their baby girl.

"Ow," she grimaced, untangling Juliet's hand from her hair.

"Can I?" he asked, stretching his arms at her. May transferred the baby to his arms. "And Liam?" he resumed, rocking Juliet in his embrace.

"Fell asleep on his own," she said, right before yawning. She was tired and the dark circles under her eyes could prove it.

May leaned forward to straighten Juliet's small top that had rolled up her back when she was moved to her father's arms. That was when May noticed Juliet's eyelids batting slowly, and after a long, deep sigh, she closed her eyes.

"How?" May simply asked.

Coulson grinned cheekily as he got up and walked to the door to lie Juliet down in her crib, "Still got it."

* * *

**Drop me a review, let me know. We're slowly approaching the end of this fanfiction...**

**And, remember the poll to choose a name for an Asgardian little girl? Well, check the poll results, and in the next chapter, you'll finally learn about her. Who do you think she is? Let me know.**

***On a last note: the twins names are Liam Robert and Juliet Lian. Their names honor their grandparents, William and Lian May, and Robert and Julie Coulson.**


	39. I'll Make a Man Out of You

**Poll results: ****1st - Avri, 10 votes / 2nd - Lexi, 8 votes / 3rd - Tori, 6 votes / 4th - Dani and Teddi, 3 votes each / 5th - Roxi, 2 votes **

**Every time you see a (*) check the end note; it's British slang and the meaning is written there. You might know some of these words, but for those of you don't, I leave you with its respective meaning at the end note.**

* * *

**(Trip is 24, Lance is 21, Grant is 20, Leo is 18, Jemma is 18), Skye is 16, Avalyn is 10 and Liam &amp; Juliet are 3. **

* * *

_Gibraltar, British Overseas Territory, Mediterranean Sea_

No matter where Lance and his unit were stationed, they had a routine after special ops: footy and bitters, which meant a soccer match between them and then some beers (or the way around, depending on their mood). After having aided the FFAA (Spanish Armed Forces) with a hostage situation of a whole train in Madrid, the Special Forces corps headed back to the RAF station in Gibraltar. In the following morning, they'd be going back to the UK after six months of being stationed in Gibraltar. The unit never knew how long it'd be until they'd be called to report to duty again, but Lance was planning on going to his flat in New York. He usually spent most of his time at his apartment in London so that he could be closer to Jemma who was getting her second PhD, this one in chemistry (Lance never failed to be impressed by Jemma and Leo's intelligence; he was 21 and finished high school, Jemma was getting a second PhD and Leo was already a graduated engineer, and had already applied for SHIELD Academy – they were both 18).

"Oi!" Kyle, one of Lance's unit members, clapped him on his back, "Knock up*, mate." When Lance looked at him, disgusted expression on his face, Kyle grimaced, "All right?"

"Oh, c'mon, Hunter," Casey – another member of Lance's unit – stopped the soccer ball under his foot and shouted, "are you in for footy or not?"

Lance stopped running and leaned back on his haunches, elbows resting on his knees, "'m zonked out*."

"You're jus' shitfaced*, mate."

"I think 'm feelin' dicky*," Lance said, which caused the other guys of his unit to have a laugh. "Oh, belt up*, y' wankers*," he got to his feet and heard his back bones cracking as he stretched. "'m not kiddin'."

"Stop pissin' 'round*," Jeremy – the doctor who was part of his squadron – crossed the field to have a close look at Lance. "He looks a tad off colour*."

"Then he shou'd go to the barracks," Casey said.

"'lright, 'kay, 'm goin'. Win the match, lads," he clapped his teammates' shoulders, "and nut* 'em hard."

Casey grabbed Lance's track top and threw it at him, "Jus' go, laddie. An' don't honk* on the way, 'lright?"

Lance scuffed along the way to the barracks, dragging his sluggishly body, track top thrown over his shoulder. He felt tired and his chest ached; Lance really wished he hadn't gotten the flu. Giving his line of work, not even getting a cold was appreciated. The path to the barracks seemed never ending and Lance felt his body getting heavier with each step, but he eventually managed to get to his room. However, as soon as he flipped the switch on and lighted the room, he flinched and smacked back against the door.

"Apologies," the blonde spoke, "did not mean to startle you."

"What are you – how did you even get in my room?"

"How I got in does not matter right now. We have more urgent matters to discuss right now."

Lance walked in, taking a closer look at the woman. She looked familiar… "Have we met before? You look familiar."

"I'm Amora, Lorelei's sister and we are here -"

"_We_?" Lance looked around; there was no sign of Lorelei.

"Yes," Amora glanced at the small human form sleeping in Lance's bed, "we."

Lance's eyes followed Amora's. He saw a small child, lying down in his bed, nodding off. She was wearing flat sandals with slender laces that strapped around her legs, and a dress made out two layered fabrics, one was light green, the other one was slightly darker. The light-colored cloth composed the dress itself, practical and loose, without intricate designs sewn into the dress, and the darker fabric was a draped bodice. Her hair was of a light auburn color, slightly wavy.

"How – how old is this child?"

"In Midgardian years, Avri should be almost six years old."

"Six…" he rubbed the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. "Is this child -"

"Yes," Amora answered, unfazed. "Avri is your daughter and that is why we are here. I need you to listen to me attentively."

Lance sighed, hands resting on the sides of his hips, "Alright, tell me."

"I did not know my sister had had a child. She abandoned Avri with warriors at Asgard who raised her the best they knew. I encountered Lorelei much later, when she revealed to me about this child. I told the All Father about the recently learned truth and, of course, had to tell him about Avri's paternity. After some examination, it was revealed that your Midgardian genes won over my sister's Asgardian nature, meaning Avri is absolutely human, just like you. The All Father made his decision: either Avri is expelled from Asgard and lives here in Midgard with you, or she will be trained to be a warrior. I do not think that a child this young should start mastering the art of fighting, especially when she has no inherited Asgardian characteristics."

"So you're asking me to keep her?"

"I'm asking you to consider it," Amora said. "If you do not want to look after your daughter, I will take her back to Asgard. I just thought it would be acceptable to let you know that you have a daughter, and to let you decide on something as important as this event of Avri's life. I only ask you to be quick in your decision; Heimdall cannot keep the Bifrost Bridge open for too long."

"Well, you'll have to gimme time. I'm deciding for the life of a person, not a dog," he sighed even more thoroughly. "Gimme a couple days -"

"You have approximately two minutes to -"

"What?" Lance's voice came out louder and desperate as he scratched his head.

Avri stirred with Lance's shout and lazily opened her hazel eyes, looking at him. Lance looked back at her, upon hearing the bed sheets rustling, and found that beautiful child looking at him. He immediately fell for her, but that wasn't enough to help him making a decision.

"I need your decision."

"I can't keep her. This will be a huge shock for her, being at a different place, with people she doesn't know."

"I have explained this whole situation to Avri before coming here. The only thing you need to think is if you want to keep her or not," Amora pressed on, anxiously looking out the window.

"I, uh," Lance looked at Avri; the way she was gazing him was making him hopelessly melt, "I'll keep her."

Amora didn't say anything else. She bid her farewells to Avri, wished Lance good luck and then walked outside. A bright light came down from the sky and suddenly she was gone. Lance threw a glance back at his bed, to make sure he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating. Avri was still lying down on his bed, eyes wide opened.

"Hi there, love," Lance greeted, squatting next to his bed, offering a smile. "Sorry for this awkward bit. Do you know who I am?"

Avri grinned sleepily and limply raised her hand to touch Lance's cheek, "Father."

"Yeah, 'pparently I am your father. How are you? Are you hungry, sleepy?"

"Sleepy."

"Alright, how 'bout we change your clothes so that you can sleep mor' comfortable?"

"'kay."

"Okay then," Lance walked to his small wardrobe while Avri sat at the edge of the bed.

"Do you live here?" she asked.

"Uhm, not really. You know, me and my mates," he rummaged through his drawers and got a white T-shirt, "we serve in a squadron called Special Air Service. We are stationed in different places, sometimes for a short time, other times for a long time. Tomorrow morning we're goin' back to London, where I have a flat. That is where I live most of the time."

"What do you do? Are you a warrior?"

"I'm a pilot," he explained, kneeling in front of Avri, taking off her sandals. "I fly fighter aircrafts and I fight the bad guys."

"So you're kind of like a warrior."

Lance smiled as he picked her up under her arms and put her down on her feet on the floor, "If you want to see it like that, yeah, I'm kinda like a warrior. Arms up," he asked, so that he could tug the dress over her head. "I don't have anything else for you to dress, so I guess one of my t-shirts will suffice."

Avri was practically swimming inside his T-shirt, but at least she was far more comfortable. And she looked happy with the new garments, grinning as she looked down at herself.

"Sure you're not hungry?"

"Yeah," Avri answered, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"Ok, you're just really sleepy," he pulled back the bed sheets and once Avri had crawled into bed, he covered her with them. "I'll get ya anothe' blanket," Lance said, walking to the wardrobe again. "Night's here are a tad parky*."

Lance lied the blanket over Avri and found it adorable the way she snuggled to it.

"Can you stay till I sleep?" Avri whispered.

"Scared of the dark?" he asked, getting a nod as an answer. Lance sat on the floor by the bedside and held her tiny hand, "I'm here with ya, no reason to be scared, 'lright?"

"Okay," her voice came out small, but she trusted him, closing her eyes.

Lance felt sick again. Fear swallowed him once Avri closed her eyes closed and looked so peaceful, falling asleep. What did he know about taking care of children? Yes, he had been around some growing up, not only at the orphanage, but then at the Coulson's, but this was this child. This was his daughter. It was a different kind of responsibility. Lance was mentally chastising himself for having said that he'd look after Avri. He wasn't thinking about how he was a novice at being a father because he knew that every new dad feels unfit. Rather, he was concerned because that child, like any other, needed a parent who'd care and look after her. Lance felt so bad for Avri already, thinking of how he'd fail at being a dad and how that little girl, who had nothing to blame, would suffer because of it.

But then again, she was his daughter, and Lance knew how much it hurt to be abandoned. His mother died giving birth, he didn't know who his father was, and his aunt didn't look after him. Avri had been abandoned by Lorelei, her aunt Amora didn't look after her, and he decided right then and there that he wouldn't be the one who'd abandon her. His brain hadn't yet processed the idea of being a father, but he didn't think it'd be that hard. He'd have to quit the SAS, because it'd be impossible for him to maintain that lifestyle with Avri now. (Coulson had been insisting on the idea of him joining SHIELD for so long…) For now, though, he was going to enjoy his deserved six weeks of paid vacation to figure things out.

As for his mental preparation, he found himself ready to be the coolest father ever. Because, who better to raise a child than a man-child himself? Sure, he would be mature and responsible when the occasions required, but other than that, he just wanted to be for Avri what Coulson had been to him: understanding, caring and cool. (Because Phil Coulson was cool, but no one ever told him that, fearing that it would inflate his ego). Lance could already imagine how it'd be to teach that child, who had no understanding of pop culture, about the things he loved. He could already imagine her in a Liverpool T-shirt, watching a soccer game with him, or the two of them doing air guitar while listening to rock tracks.

"I don't know the first thing about being a father but I'll learn. Every day. And I hope that you're patient with me. I'll try my best, that's for sure, and I won't walk away from you. You won't have the same childhood I had when nobody wanted me till I was adopted. You'll always have me. This thing of being a father is new to me and my brain hasn't yet processed it, but I love you already. And I'll do my best every day to be the best father I can because you expect nothing else but that from me. This is my newest obligation, being a father, and that's not because I pity you for having no one else, but because you are a living part of me and you only hope that I do my part and be a good father to you," he chuckled quietly, rubbing slow circles in the back of Avri's hand. "I already know you're gonna be a pretty great daughter. I mean, I am your dad, that already makes you awesome."

* * *

Lance awoke up listening to tiny feet pitter-pattering in the room. His eyes fluttered open and he found Avri standing on the tips of her toes, arms resting over the window sill, looking outside. He let out a quiet moan as he stretched his body; he was sore from having fallen asleep sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall.

"You're awake already, love."

Avri looked back and smiled, "Good morning, father."

"G' morning," he got to his feet and walked to her, stooping by her side, his arm looping around her waist. "How did ya sleep?"

"Good," she said, and then confessed barely on a whisper, "but I'm a bit hungry now."

Lance chuckled, "Ok, then let's get dress and head to the Mess hall. Breakfast here isn't the tastiest but it's good 'nough."

"And then we're leaving to London?"

"Yes," Lance told her, surprised that she had actually listened to him the past night. "And for that I'll need your help packing up my stuff."

"Alright," Avri agreed without hesitation.

He sat at the edge of the bed and beckoned Avri to approach him, to help her slip into her dress again, "And when we're in London, we're gonna have to buy ya new clothes. Oh, and I'll have to introduce you to the family. They're gonna like ya, fo' sure."

"When are we meeting them?"

"Actually," Lance reached for his phone and quickly scrolled through some of his photos, showing one to Avri, "these are them." He began introducing everyone as he pointed, "These are my adoptive parents, Phil and Melinda, and these are all my siblings. This one is Trip, that's Leo, Skye, this one is Jemma, she's British like me, and this one is Grant. These three over here are the biological children of Phil and Melinda. This is Avalyn, we call her AJ, and the little ones are twins, Liam and Juliet. I know it's a lot of people to learn about so quickly," he admitted, putting away his phone and returning to his original task, "but once you meet 'em, it's easier."

"They're my family too, right?"

"Yeah, of course. They're your folks too now. You're gonna love 'em and they gonna love ya too. A'right, all dressed. Up we go," he said as he grabbed Avri under the arms and lifted her into the air with a little toss. She giggled when she realized that she was airborne, before being safely caught in Lance's arms on the way back down, "let's have breakfast."

Lance guided Avri ahead of him, serving breakfast for the two of them as they walked along the serving line. Carrying both trays, Lance looked for his comrades and signaled with his head for Avri to follow him. He put down the servings of food and pulled out the chair for the little girl.

"Who's she?" Ray managed to ask in spite of the fact that his mouth was full with food.

"She's - uh – she's my daughter," he explained. His mates raised their brows, incredulous, but Lance's attention was on Avri, "I need to talk with our Air Commodore. Can you stay here with m' mates? I'll be right back."

Avri nodded and focused on eating. Lance ran the few steps to his superiors' table, providing a salute as he faced them.

"At ease," Air Commodore Wen told him. "Do you wish anything from me, Hunter?"

"A word, please."

Wen nodded and got up, escorting Lance to a quieter corner of the mess hall, "What is it? Something wrong?"

"We're flying back to England today and I was wondering if there's an extra seat in the jet? I – uh – kinda have to take my dau – daughter."

"Your daughter?" Even Wen was surprised.

"Only learnt about her yesterday. She spent the night at the barracks and since we're going back home…"

"How old is she?"

"Five-ish."

Wen furrowed his brows, "You were what, fifteen when –"

"Yeah. It's a long story. Anyway, any chance she can come with us today?"

"I think we can arrange something."

"Thank you, Sir."

"That's her?" Commander Wen asked, looking at Avri downing her breakfast.

Lance looked back, "Yeah, that's her."

"I hope she'll make a man out of you," he added before returning to his seat.

"She's already making a man out of me," he commented to himself, a small smile blooming in his lips.

* * *

After breakfast, everyone returned to the living quarters to pack their belongings and put on their uniforms. Avri helped Lance packing as she promised, and he couldn't deny that he loved the way his daughter looked at him in complete awe once she saw him wearing his Flight Lieutenant uniform.

Walking hand in hand, Lance and Avri crossed the runway, heading to one of the military aircrafts. The sound of the jets was deafening, but if Lance was used to it, Avri was not. She pulled a face, looking around, utterly confused at the intense movement of people and planes, and kept on scratching her ears with her free hand.

Lance strapped the duffel bag across his chest and let go of Avri's hand to tell her, "Clamp your ears, love."

Avri did as she was told, and Lance then placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her to their aircraft. They entered the cargo hold, and Lance promptly strapped Avri. The remaining members of Lance's unit took a seat and waited for the aircraft to take off. As they were gaining more and more altitude, Avri got crankier. Her ears popped, she was scared because that was her first flight (traveling through the Bifrost was totally different), and so she started to cry. Lance immediately unstrapped her from her seat and pulled her to his lap.

"What's the matter, love?"

She didn't say a word, holding onto the lapel of Lance's jacket.

"Here, chew it," Harold offered her a gum in her mouth. "It helps with the ear popping."

After looking up at her father, who nodded, Avri opened her mouth and accepted the gum. It obviously didn't ease her pain right away, but she felt a lot safer in her father's arms.

"Let's get down to business, to defeat the Huns," Casey began singing, which caused all eyes to fall on him. "Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?"

Their drill sergeant used to refer to their unity as a bunch of little girls running around with rifles. He teased them so much to be brave and strong soldiers that he made them sing Mulan's song as they exercised. All the recruits in Lance's unit knew the lyrics of the song by heart.

"You're the saddest bunch I ever met!" Fred continued. "But you can bet, before we're through, Mister I'll make a man out of you."

It didn't take much for the highly trained special force unit turn into a choir of young men singing a song from an animated movie. Lance trotted his legs as he sang along. Avri was smiling, so they had fulfilled their goal.

* * *

***British slang:**

**Knock up – awake up**

**Zonked out – exhausted**

**Shitfaced - drunk**

**Dicky – sick**

**Belt up – shut up**

**Wanker(s) – jerk(s)**

**Pissing around – making fun**

**Off colour – pale and ill**

**Nut – head butt**

**Honk – throw up**

**Parky - cold**


	40. The House You Live In

**(Trip is 25, Lance is 22, Grant is 21, Leo is 19, Jemma is 19), Skye is 17, Avalyn is 11 and Liam &amp; Juliet are 4. + Avri is 7. **

* * *

Trip was sitting on the edge of the couch, methodically pressing the buttons of his game controller, eyes focused on the TV screen. Skye was sitting next to him, sunk on the couch. She was frenetically pressing the buttons of her controller, hissing curse words that only made Trip smile.

With a despising full-teeth grin, Trip leaned back on the couch saying, "So, if we're keeping scores I thinking I'm winning 10 to 1, right?"

Skye pressed her lips and smacked him on the upper arm, "This is your fault. You're a terrible teacher."

"What? I've taught you about all the buttons –"

"Rambling for ten minutes about how this one button makes my guy squat and that this other button makes him roll over isn't exactly helpful!"

"I taught you basic defensive tactics," Trip explained.

"I don't care about defensive tactics. I wanna know the button to shoot you dead!"

Trip laughed so hard he thought he'd die out of breath.

"I want a rematch," Skye said. "But this time you either teach me how to shoot or I'll try all the buttons and break the controller."

"Break the controller if you want. The PlayStation is still Lance's," he grinned.

"Ugh, fine, you win," Skye admitted, defeated, throwing the controller over the couch.

"Thanks a lot for lending a hand today. Painting walls is not really my forte."

Skye smiled, "No problem. I think it's really sweet of you to buy a house for your mother."

"I promised her that when she sent me to live with my grandparents."

"Weren't you, like, four when that happened?"

"Yes, so?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, stretching her body. "It just, when I was four I picked my nose and you promised your mother you'd buy her a house."

"Not everyone is as good as me," Trip chimed.

"You boastful prick," Skye picked up a pillow and threw it at Trip. "I'm gonna check on Mimi. I'm starving."

"Can I play with you now, Trip?" Avalyn asked, putting down the book she was reading.

He grabbed the controller that Skye was using and hand it to Avalyn, "Let's see if you're better than Skye."

"Everyone is better than Skye."

Trip laughed again, "I don't remember laughing this much before. Thank God I got two weeks off work."

* * *

"No peeking," Trip said, grabbing his mother's hand as he guided to the entrance door.

Elodie chuckled, "I'm not."

"Careful, steps," he warned.

"How many?"

"Three." Once the two were on the house's porch, Trip let go of his mother's hand, to pull the keys out his jeans' pocket, "No peeking."

"I am _not_ peeking."

He held her hand again and warned, "Small step."

"My goodness, how many steps are there?"

"No more steps," he grinned. "You can open your eyes now."

The house seemed small on the outer side, but inside, it was quite roomy. After passing through the red front door there was a hall with a staircase and two divisions, one on the left, one on the right. Peeking to both sides, Elodie saw that the living room was situated through the left door and the dining room to her right. The open kitchen linked both dining and living rooms, and had a door to the backyard. Except for the kitchen, where the floor consisted of white tiles, wooden boards floored the rest of the house. The majority of the house was mustard colored. Upstairs there were two bedrooms and a bathroom that was conveniently placed in front of the stairs.

"This house is beautiful, Antoine. It isn't furnished yet, but it's so good. It's small and cozy."

"I'm glad you like because this house is yours."

Elodie swirled on her heels, "I'm sorry?"

"This house is yours, mother."

"No, this is _your_ house. You said –"

"I said I was going to show you my house, I know, but I couldn't really tell you the truth earlier. The house is yours, mother. Now you don't have to live in that horrible place in Harlem anymore."

"Antoine," Elodie's filled with tears. "I don't want – I don't deserve this."

"Yes, you do. I promised I'd get you a house once I'd get my own money. It took me a bit to save up enough money, but I've made it. You deserve this house."

Elodie hugged her son, crying, "My goodness, what did I do to deserve a son like you? You are nothing like your father, Antoine."

"If I'm not anything like him is because of you. He was the idiot one for leaving you," Trip caressed her back, "for leaving us. You are everything that matters to me the most in the whole world. This is just a little thank you for what you've done for me."

"I did nothing, my little boy. I sent you to live with your grandparents, let you be adopted –"

Trip parted the hug to look into his mother's eyes, "Because you wanted me to have a better life. And I do. Now let me make your life a little bit better too."

"I love this house," Elodie hugged Trip again.

"I'm glad," he chuckled. "I can't wait to help you moving in."

* * *

**This was short, but I think it was sweet. To me, Trip seems like the kind of person who'd buy his mother a nice house as a thank you.**

**Next chapter will bring up some people from the MCU. **


	41. Remembrance

**(Trip is 25, Lance is 22, Grant is 21, Leo is 19, Jemma is 19), Skye is 17, Avalyn is 11 and Liam &amp; Juliet are 4. + Avri is 7. **

* * *

"Keep on chewing gums while you're in the Quinjet or else your ears will pop.

"Never, _ever_ leave your father's side.

"Do everything he tells you.

"Don't strip off clothes, hearing me? Not even if you're feeling hot.

"Mom!" Avalyn whined, throwing her head back in complete despair.

Melinda May hardly showed her mother hen side but she had one. She had a big mother hen side.

"I'm serious, Avalyn," May claimed, staring her down.

Skye quietly chuckled, looking down her hand as she twirled a few strands of spaghetti around the tines of the fork.

"Mommy," Liam wailed for the fourth time, waving his plastic cup in front of her, swinging his legs under the table. "Juice!"

"Sorry bao bei," the woman said, filling her son's cup with orange juice. "Here you go," her gaze fell over the older girl again. "Promise me you'll behave. A trip to the Arctic is not a regular trip."

"I know," she heaved a sigh, "Dad has told me everything. He even took me to see the Quinjet already. It's gonna be okay, I have dad."

"Even more concerning," May rolled her eyes. "Your father searching for Captain America and keeping an eye on you? Something will go south."

"I want more," Juliet chirped, pushing her plate to her mother. She then offered a big, toothy smile, adding, "please."

"My God," Skye's eyes widened, "I still don't know where you keep that much food."

"In my tummy," the little girl answered, taking a forkful of spaghetti to her mouth. "Mom, when dad's back?"

"He went to take Avri to Lance but it shouldn't take long."

"Uhm," Skye hummed, quickly chewing the food she had in her mouth, "Is he staying in New York?"

May shook her head, "He's going back to London at the end of the week. He just came here to apply for an agency, see if he can get in. If he does, then he'll stay permanently."

* * *

May was brushing her teeth in the washbasin, watching her husband packing his duffel bag. She couldn't help but to smile. She loved his smile and happiness; it made him look youthful. After rinsing her mouth, she put the toothbrush away and walked into the bedroom, tugging her sweater over her head to change into her sleeping clothes.

"You're probably the only person on Earth that is excited to go to the Arctic and freeze your ass out there."

"It's Captain America we're talking about, Mel," he stated. "He's iconic, and a hero, and -"

"Contain your inner fanboy. I won't be there to hold people down if you get too excited. And I'd really hate if someone would punch you and ruin your face."

"I'm a professional agent. You think I can't handle my job with seriousness?" he furrowed his brows, looking back at her.

"You drooling all over him will sure help the ice melting."

Coulson suppressed a small chuckle and tried to sound upset, "Are you done poking fun of me?"

May said mischievously, "Not yet."

"Then let me know when you're done," he grinned, focusing again on packing.

Slipping under the covers, May warned, "Be careful with Avalyn, please."

Coulson sighed, taking a seat next to her, "I've thought about it over and over again. I think it'd be best if she'd stay but she's so excited about this. I can't bear to break her heart."

"You're a soft-hearted man," she claimed, lying down on her side.

"Soft-hearted man," he repeated with a mischievous tone, crawling into bed.

He kissed her deeply, gently capturing May's lower lip between his teeth. She smiled, big, and lightly pinching his thigh. Something poked her in response.

"Uhm," he hummed, "I liked that."

"I can tell," her lips drew into a teasing smile. "I might elaborate on it later."

"Why not now?"

"Your bag won't pack itself. And the twins are waiting for you to tuck them in to bed."

"Damn," he let out a quiet chuckle, resting his forehead on her chest. Scrambling off the bed quickly, he ran the few steps to the door and looked back, holding the doorknob, "Don't fall asleep."

(He returned finding his wife sleeping already; he smiled and lied down next to her. She had had a rough day, training cadets, and he needed to be fully energized for the following day's voyage.)

* * *

"Dad," Avalyn whined, stripping off the jacket and the scarf, "it's too hot."

"AJ," Coulson started putting on her clothes again, even though she tried to resist, "I know it's too hot now but you'll need all of these clothes later."

"All seven layers?" she rose her brow.

"You're not wearing seven layers of clothes."

"'right, 'kay, but these coats are still collapsing my lungs."

An agent that was sitting next to Avalyn chuckled quietly and then added, "She sounds just like Agent May."

"I know," Coulson sighed. "Avalyn, I'm serious now," he continued, trying to fit her arm in the coat armhole. "This is not New-York-winter-cold; this is -40°F-Arctic-cold. If you don't bundle up, I'll leave you locked in this Quinjet."

"Will you?"

"You wanted to come with me to the Arctic and said you'd do everything I say, didn't you?" he asked – rhetorically – while tying, again, her scarf around her neck. "If I'm telling you that you have to wear these many clothes, then you have to trust me."

Avalyn held her father's hand and the two stepped out of the Quinjet, following the other agents. The arctic was a barren wasteland of brilliant white that sparkled like a fresh page in the wintry sun. The ground and the sky seemed to have melted into one and there was no horizon. Their breath raised in visible puffs to join the sky. Avalyn had rosy cheeks as she stamped through the snow to keep warm, tugging the coat against her body and tightening the scarf over our blue-tinged lips.

"You're alright, sweetie?" Coulson asked.

The girl nodded and snugged closer to her father's side. They walked over to the spot where the Russian oil tanker was stuck. The ship had collided against a buried wreckage of a large, wing shaped aircraft, and requested help. SHIELD was dispatched to the scene, as they had been looking for Captain America's aircraft for years now. This could be his jet, according to Howard Stark's reports. Everyone took a step back while two agents cut a hole in the aircraft's metal surface. Coulson spared a quick glance at the Russian's ship crew and wished he had brought Natasha along, so that they could interact with them.

(Sure Natasha punched him in the face after Clint recruited her to join SHIELD, but that was water under the bridge; they were good now. Coulson had no idea that she was being placed in the Black Widow's training program. He genuinely thought she was being sent to an all-girls orphanage in Russia.)

"All set, boss," one of the agents said, waving at Coulson.

They had already thrown a rope down the hole and most of the ten agents were already in the interior the aircraft. Coulson scooped Avalyn up under her arms and asked her to tightly wrap her arms and legs around him; he'd have to slide down the rope whilst carrying her. Once inside, Coulson gave Avalyn a flashlight and a GPS tracker, as he'd let her wander around on her own. At first, he wouldn't do it, mostly because she could find Captain America and be frightened, but then he remembered that the man would be preserved in ice, so she wouldn't find anything or anyone scary.

"Dad!" Avalyn screamed at the top of her lungs, running through the halls of the aircraft.

Coulson's heart jumped in his chest; maybe it had been a bad idea to let wander alone. He ran as well, following her voice, "What is it? What's wrong, AJ?"

"The shield," she whispered. "I found Cap's shield."

His eyes widened, "Where?" Coulson was already signaling two other agents to follow him.

Avalyn ran all the way to the cockpit and pointed the flashlight to the spot where she saw the shield.

"My God," Coulson mumbled, wiping the snow off the shield. He looked back at the agents, "This is it, this is the aircraft. Search through, we might find him."

When Coulson looked at his daughter, she was holding the shield in her hands, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "I found it, dad."

He leaned over and pressed a kiss on Avalyn's forehead, "Yes, you did."

* * *

Trip walked through the halls of the retirement home as if it was his house. He frequently visited his faux aunt Peggy Carter in there. She had many visitors, such as her niece – and Trip's dear friend – Sharon, her children, Michael and Amanda, her old SSR colleague Jack Thompson – whose son and grandchildren were neighbors of the Coulson's –, and yet her other faux-nephew Tony Stark. Today Trip was delivering Peggy important news: Steve Rogers had been found alive, frozen in the Arctic; she had waited over 70 years for a resolute answer on Steve's status. Today she was getting the answer.

"Hey there," Victoria – Jack Thompson's granddaughter – greeted Trip with a big grin.

"Visiting Marge too?" the man asked, holding tightly to Victoria's arm.

Trip nodded, "Yes. I have great news for her."

"Rogers, isn't it?"

"Yes. They found him alive," Trip said.

Victoria tugged on her grandfather's hand, "Let's get going, gramps?"

"Sure. Nice seeing you, Tony."

Trip offered a smile, "T-thanks," he said as he walked to Peggy's room. He could hear Victoria telling her grandfather that he wasn't Stark.

"Can I come in?" Trip asked, easing the door open just enough to poke his head in.

"Antoine," Peggy smiled. "Come on in."

"Sharon was coming too but she got caught up at work."

"It's alright," she pointed to the chair next to her bed. "Take a seat. How are you?"

"I'm doing well," Trip answered while taking a seat. "I actually came here to tell you something. SHIELD found him."

Peggy seemed clueless, "Who?"

"Steve."

The woman's eyes welled up with tears, "After all these years."

Trip grinned and held her hand on his, "Yes, after these years. He's alive and they're doing their best to bring him back."

"I thought he had been found –"

"Dead? No," he shook his head. "The ice preserved him. And I guess the serum helped keeping him alive too."

"He'll be so shocked when he wakes up. The world has changed so much."

"I'm sure he'll adapt just fine, Auntie. What matters now is that he's alive."

Peggy was going to say something but there was a knock on the door. Mikey, her son, walked in still wearing his NYPD uniform. He didn't even take the time to change into his casual clothes. He had received a call informing him about Steve's reappearance. Having no other family alive, or any other known friends, Peggy was on the contact info, in case there were news.

"Mother, I just ran here –"

"Steve?" she smiled.

Mikey took a moment to breathe, walking over to her bed. "How do you – Trip?" he casted a glance at the other man.

"Yes, I told her. First thing I did once I learned about it was coming to tell Auntie Peg."

"How does it feel mother, knowing that he's alive?"

Peggy pursed her lips and offered a small smile, "I don't know. It's… strange. But I'm glad he's alive."

* * *

**Ok, so there's a lot going on in this last bit with Trip and Peggy. Let's break it down in small parts.**

**1 – Peggy isn't suffering from Alzheimer yet – or at least experiencing it on its full force –, so that's why she can recall people and things. Also, my take on the MCU events is different, so any change would be plausible. **

**2 – Remember the Coulson's neighbors, the Thompson's? They were the snobby parents (who I didn't bother to name) who had three kids: Victoria, Abraham and Franklin. Well, AgentMaryMargaretSkitz once asked me that if this Thompson family had any relation with Jack Thompson (Agent Carter rings a bell?). It was an unfortunate last name to pick, but once she mentioned it, I really, really wanted make this family be Jack Thompson's family, so there it is. In this chapter Jack went to visit Peggy and he was being aided by his granddaughter Victoria.**

**3 – Regarding to Peggy's family life: in this fanfiction she's married to Daniel Sousa and they had two children: Amanda and Michael (Mikey). Sharon Carter, and now this is following canon, is Peggy's niece. **

**4 – Enver Gjokaj played a NYPD cop in The Avengers (rewatch it if you didn't notice; he's in the battle scene when Cap asks the policemen to set up a perimeter) so, let's accept this fantasy of mine that Peggy and Daniel's son is a NYPD officer who looks like a carbon copy of his father. (This explains why Mikey walked in his mother's room still wearing his police uniform).**

**Now talking about the next chapter: also includes more MCU characters, these ones of the Netflix shows. Excited? :)**


	42. (Wo)Men With(out) Fear

**(Trip is 26, Lance is 23, Grant is 22, Leo is 20, Jemma is 20, Skye is 18), Avalyn is 12 and Liam &amp; Juliet are 5. + Avri is 8 and Amidala is 2-months-old. **

**Warnings: language (?) and alcohol addiction.**

**P.S.: Amidala (Ami) is Hunter and Bobbi's daughter. Yes, that guy reproduces like a freaking bunny...**

* * *

"Jess?" Skye called as soon as she entered her dorm room, "Jess?"

Skye found the black haired teenager lying in her bed over the bedclothes, facing down. Her right arm was hanging off the edge of the bed and she was still holding to half a bottle of scotch. Sighing, Skye walked over to her bed to drop her laptop over it and then took the bottle from Jessica's hand, putting it over their chronically messy desk.

She decided to shake her roommate awake, saying in a soft voice, "Jessica?"

Jessica grunted but since she didn't have the strength to lift her head, she ended up mumbling into her pillow, "What?"

"Our case. I found Miranda Pritchett."

Jessica Jones was once an aspiring journalist who wanted to expose society's corruption and make justice. She was trying to think long-term and make it through college, but her mind was set on getting a private investigator's license and creating her own investigation's office. As days went by, she was more and more firm on the thought of quitting college. So far, what was feeding her hope was the fact that she and Skye were somewhat well-succeeded amateur PIs; Jessica did the field work while Skye took care of computer work – as she was studying computer programming. However, it was a shame that Jessica had an alcohol dependency (something concerning, giving the fact she was only nineteen) and a quite raging temperament. She would have been an excellent journalist but her temper and the alcohol addiction combined often threw her off-track.

Pushing herself up, Jessica sat in bed and grimaced as the room's light blinded her. She rubbed her eyes as she tried to get her bearings, "Where's she?"

Skye took a seat next to her roommate, "Miranda's in New York, living at her home. I did an internet research, and her credit card activity shows she's still in New York. For someone who wanted to disappear without a trace, she was pretty lousy at it."

"That doesn't make sense," Jessica reasoned correctly, despite the amount of alcohol in her system. "Her sister was desperate to find her, said she didn't take her calls, that she wasn't at her apartment and that she didn't even show up at work. It can't be her," the teenager reached out for her bottle of scotch, drinking a big gulp under Skye's reproving look. "She was mugged and probably killed and the credit card's being used by her killer."

"Well," Skye got up and crossed the small distance between their beds to grab her laptop, "I found her home, alive and well. I even recorded a video as evidence," the hacker affirmed, showing her the video she had recorded on her phone and transferred to her computer. "I staked out Miranda's home till now. I don't know from where she was coming, but she arrived with the so-suspicious boyfriend and the two went inside."

"I'll call Miranda's sister first thing tomorrow," Jessica said before holding the bottleneck to her lips. "Let go," she said in an authoritarian tone, feeling Skye holding the bottle.

"No, I won't let go. This is terrible for you," Skye told her, trying to yank the bottle from her tight grip. "Drinking every now and then is alright, but you drink too much."

"Fuck off," she said to Skye's face, green eyes widely open.

Skye grimaced as Jessica's alcohol breathe almost intoxicated her, "No I won't fuck off. Let go of the bottle, Jess."

"I'm not in my right mind. Don't make me do something I'll regret later," she warned. "Go and stakeout Miranda's apartment. Make sure she's still there with her boyfriend, knock on her door and tell her to call her sister if you have to, but leave me alone."

"I'll call Trish."

"Even if I tried, I can't give a fuck."

"Alright, okay," Skye raised her arms up, defeated, "your choice, Jess. Drink all you want. I'm gonna be outside Miranda's apartment if you decide to stay reasonably sober and actually do something useful."

Jessica rolled her eyes and drank a big gulp of scotch. Skye exhaled furiously through her nose, put her laptop in her satchel and crossed the strap over her chest. She slammed the door as she exited and stomped through the halls, walking to the dorm room of two law students who she and Jessica were friends with.

"Matt, Foggy!" Skye called, opening the door of their room.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Skye!" Frank swore, startled, dropping his law book. "Knock before entering. Or stop entering like that."

"Every time, really?" Skye teased as she walked in and let the door close behind her. "You're such a scared little thing, Foggy."

Matt grinned, no longer paying attention to his braille book. He turned his head to where he heard her voice had come from, "Something's wrong? Besides Foggy being a hopelessly scared princess."

Foggy got his revenge for that mocking comment by throwing his pillow at Matt's face.

"I have to run an errand but Jessica, she's – uh -" she lowered her voice, "drinking again. Keep an eye on her for me?"

"I'm blind, remember?" Matt smiled sheepishly.

Skye bit her lower lip, holding back a smirk, and gave him the finger, "How many fingers am I holding up, Murdock?"

"I have the feeling that you flipped me off."

"See? Blind but smart," Skye affectionately pressed a kiss on Matt's brown hair.

He snaked his arm around Skye's waist, keeping her close to his side. The two of them simply clicked after their first meeting; they became friends almost instantly. After learning that they've had lived in the same orphanage, the two of them got even closer as friends.

"And you, Foggy?" as she turned her eyes to Frank, Skye draped her arm around Matt's shoulders, rubbing slow circles on his upper arm. "Can I count with your help too?"

"I'm a hopelessly scared princess, remember?" he smirked.

"Do it for Jess," she said, heading to the door. "See you guys later," she bid farewell before walking out and striding along the halls again.

"C'mon, man," Foggy clapped his friend's shoulder, "let's nag Jess."

Matt grabbed Frank's arm around his elbow and adjusted the hold on his cane as the two walked over to Skye and Jessica's dorm room, "One day she'll punch us for real and it's gonna hurt."

Foggy smirked, "Let's hope that day is not today."

* * *

A stakeout was hard and boring work, Skye had to recognize why the policemen and detectives from the movies hated it. Those were some tedious hours to spend alone while trying to keep an unsuspicious posture. She was sitting at a bench just across the street from Miranda's apartment building. The lights were still on, she could see through the window, and the car she assumed was her boyfriend's (he was the one driving so the car so it should be his) was still parked outside the building. As they were (apparently) still both in the apartment, Skye dedicated her attention to something else: her college work. She figured she might as well do some work while surveilling Miranda's apartment.

Though, Skye quickly got fed up with work. She didn't want to be in college to begin with. She was a great hacker – she had twelve years of experience – and she had proved that to her parents. Coulson and May recognized that Skye was an excellent hacker but they wanted her to get a degree before joining SHIELD. She learned about her parents work rather late and was somewhat angry at them for keeping it a secret from her (and also because she was the last one to know about it – except for Avalyn who didn't know yet, of course), but quickly got over it and expressed her desire to work with the agency as well, following Trip, Grant and (quite recently) Lance, Leo and Jemma's examples. Coulson and May still insisted on getting a degree before joining SHIELD, because even though Communications was the easiest Academy to enter, she still needed to be the best of the best to get in.

She exhaled thoroughly, thinking that she could use something to fuel her brain – coffee or a donut would suffice. She then chuckled quietly, realizing of how cop-stereotypical that idea had sounded. But, when Skye was about to get up and search for the nearest convenience store or coffee shop, Miranda's alleged boyfriend exited the building. That was the perfect time to go and knock on Miranda's door and talk with her. Skye meant to tell her that, even if she wanted to make a fresh start, that she should at least talk with her sister and keep her from over-worrying.

Walking through the front door would be a bad move, Skye acknowledged, so, after putting her laptop back in her satchel, she walked to the back of the building. Making use of her two bobby pins, she picked the backdoor's lock and entered the building. After that it wasn't hard to find Miranda's apartment. Skye knocked a few times and waited patiently, staring down at her feet, hands clasped behind her back. She found it strange that Miranda wasn't opening the door. She picked the apartment's lock as well, already preparing an explanation to give Miranda when she would find her in her apartment. Skye wished she could have had embarrassed herself but that didn't happen. Miranda was lying on the floor behind the couch. The teenager tiptoed into the room, slowly approaching the body on the floor.

Skye clamped her own mouth upon finding the blonde woman lying motionless on the floor, eyes wide opened, a growing bruise on her neck. She leaned over and with a shaky hand felt Miranda's heartbeats. Or she wished she could have felt them. Miranda was dead and there was no one she could call. She really wanted to call the police and tip them about that woman's death, but what excuse would she have for having walked in her apartment? Being a PI was already a hard job; being a teenage PI made things even worse. Moreover, it killed Skye that she couldn't tell the police about Miranda's murderer.

A bit at loss, Skye exited the apartment and rushed down the stairs, heading to the backdoor. She puffed once and again, when outside, running her fingers through her hair. She had no clue about what to do but one thing was sure: she just wanted to go back to the dorms and hope the police wouldn't come to question her or Jessica. Skye wandered along the sidewalk, looking back at Miranda's apartment building every now and then, feeling her heart thumping fast in her chest. She bumped against someone and something hot spilled across her abdomen.

"Oh, jeez, sorry," a male voice said. "My fault, I wasn't paying attention."

Skye looked at the man she bumped against. He was a young man, blond, had a scruffy beard and his blue eyes were attentive on her. He wore blue hospital garments, which indicated nurse or doctor, but giving the fact looked not three or four older than herself, Skye assumed he was an intern.

"You're okay?" he asked concerned, offering a small smile.

"Oh," Skye looked down at her shirt, a coffee stain spreading through her shirt, "yeah, yeah. Don't worry. I – uh -" she smiled shyly as she looked at him, "buy you another cup of coffee?"

"No, it's okay -"

"I insist," she told him. "Skye," she introduced herself, stretching her hand for a handshake.

He shook her hand, "Lincoln." Turning around to face the other side of the street, he pointed to a coffee shop, "Let's go over there. It was where I got this one," he told her, throwing the empty cup in the trash.

"Sorry, I was the distracted one. I was looking at – nothing I guess," she grinned as she poorly explained.

The two of them crossed the street and enter the coffee shop. Skye ended up getting a cup of coffee for herself as well and the two take a seat at one of the tables in the shop, casually chatting.

(When Skye let it out about Jessica's drinking addiction – feeling the need to unburden – she felt Lincoln closing up a bit, as if that subject had hit too close to home. He knew she had sensed his tension, but, nonetheless, the two evaded any awkwardness that could have resulted from talking further about it and continued chatting as if nothing had happened).

* * *

When Skye returned back to her dorm room, Frank and Matt were sitting on her bed, the blond one holding an ice pack against his eye.

"Jessica got a bit physical, I see," she commented as she walked in.

"_A bit_ is speaking mildly," Matt affirmed. "Could have gotten a lot worse if we didn't let her keep the bottle."

"Sorry, Foggy," Skye told him, taking a seat between the two young men.

"Who is he?" Matt asked, unable to disguise the jealousy in his tone.

"Who is who?"

Matt's jaw tightened, "Your shirt stinks of coffee, and I know you can be clumsy sometimes, but I don't think you poured coffee down yourself. So, you bumped against someone carrying a cup of coffee. And, giving the time you took to return, I'd say that you bumped against a guy and that you two ended up chatting, so, who's he?"

Skye sighed, knowing that she had no room whatsoever to lie, "His name's Lincoln. He's a recently graduated doctor who's doing his internship at the hospital nearby. I bumped against him when I was coming back to the dorms. He spilled his cup of coffee over me and I offered to buy him another one. We walked inside and chatted for a bit. He seemed a nice guy."

"Unbelievable," Foggy almost spelled out the word, bewildered. "How did you do that?"

"You need to be able to make fast deductions, Foggy," Skye told him.

"I'm studying to be a lawyer not Sherlock Holmes."

Matt flashed a grin and got up, "I think we should go now. You're here with Jessica and Foggy's getting grumpier by the minute."

"I have a swollen eye," Frank grumbled on the way to the door. "I have all the rights in the world to be grumpy, 'kay?"

Skye offered a small smile, "You're right. You have all the rights in the world to be grumpy. Thanks, guys. You can go back to your room now. I'm just gonna take a shower and sleep it off."

"Oh, then I guess I'll stay a bit more," Matt said, stopping suddenly. "Can't leave Jess alone. I'll be right there, Foggy," he said to his roommate, walking back to take a seat at Skye's bed.

"Thanks, Matt," Skye said, giving a light squeeze to his shoulder. "G' night, Foggy."

"'Night," he mumbled, letting the door close behind him.

* * *

When Skye was back from her shower, Matt was lying face up in her bed, eyes closed.

"Hey," she whispered, resting her flat hand on his chest, shaking lightly, "Mattie?"

His senses were immediately invaded by her presence: the sound of her soft voice woke him up, the touch of her hand burned a hole on his chest, the scent of shampoo entered his nostrils and she had leaned over him so much that her breathe tickled his lips and left him with a strange lingering taste in his mouth that made him wonder how kissing her would feel like. He shook his head when the latter thought ran through his mind and sat bolt upright, scratching the back of his head.

"Sorry, fell asleep for a bit here."

"It's okay," he could literally hear her smiling. "Thanks for staying with Jessica."

He didn't stay because of Jessica and Skye knew it. Even Foggy knew that he didn't stay back to look after a passed out Jessica Jones.

"Nah, it's alright," he smiled, swinging his feet off the bed and down on the floor.

Matt was still sitting on the edge of her bed, not having even moved an inch.

"Everything alright?" she asked, taking seat next to him, patting his leg.

"Yeah, sure. Everything's alright."

"Really? Then why did you sound jealous earlier?"

"Don't mistake concern with jealousy," the young man said right away, getting up and grabbing his cane. "You've just met Lincoln -"

"And we only chatted," Skye's furrowed her brows. "It's not like I'm marrying him, Matt."

Matt gripped the doorknob, "Just looking after you. 'Night," he said over his shoulder before leaving.

"'Night," she replied, mostly to herself since Matt had already left out the door.

After draping a blanket over Jessica, Skye crawled into her bed. She felt like her brain was going to melt, mulling over a thousand different thoughts. She didn't think she could survive another day of college, she was anxious about her future, she was really scared about Miranda's death, she worried about Jessica's sobriety every day, and even if she had enjoyed chatting with Lincoln, she sensed that there was something off about him, and she couldn't understand (she actually could but didn't want to acknowledge) the reason why Matt sounded so jealous.

She silently screamed into her pillow and then lied down face up, staring the ceiling. Her brain was a mess and she really wished Jessica was sober (that was the first and only time Skye was so selfish about Jessica's alcohol problem). She really needed a friend to chat with. After endlessly tossing and turning in bed, Skye exhaled deeply and reached for her phone, calling Jemma; at least she could always count on Jemma.

* * *

**The crime described in this is chapter is taken from the comic book issue **_**Alias Vol 1 #1 **_**(called "**_**Alias Investigations (Part 1 of 5)**_**") written by Brian Michael Bendis (November 2001).**

**New poll on my profile, please vote. **

**And, regarding Jessica's character: I wrote this **_**befor**_**e the show came out, so the details aren't that accurate. Then again, this is a different universe, so I can do whatever I want with the characters. **


	43. Absolution - Part II

**(Trip is 26, Lance is 23, Grant is 22, Leo is 20, Jemma is 20, Skye is 18), Avalyn is 12 and Liam &amp; Juliet are 5. + Avri is 8 and Amidala is 8-months-old. **

* * *

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, watch it!" Leo rushed into the lab, heading directly to the table where Jemma was working at. "That's the night-night gun."

"Well it's on my side of the table and it doesn't work," she said, giving it to him. "And there's no way we're calling it the night-night gun."

"How can you say it doesn't work? You haven't even begun working on the bullets," Leo pointed out, looking at the gun in his hands. "They gotta be non-lethal, with a heavy stopping power -"

"I'm not Hermione," she rolled her eyes. "I can't create instant paralysis with only 0, 1 microliters of dendrotoxin."

"You could try," he grinned, leaving the gun on his side of the table.

"Agent Fitz?" an agent called by the lab door.

Leo turned around, "Yes?"

"Could you accompany me? You are being called for questioning. "

"For que – what?" he furrowed his brows, a puzzled expression on his face. "Questioning?"

"What is going on?" Jemma asked, standing by Leo's side.

The agent walked in and gently grabbed Leo's arm, pulling him in the direction of the door, "Agent Fitz?"

He sighed and looked back at Jemma and then at the agent again, "O – okay, let's go. I'll be right back, Jem," he said over his shoulder as he was being dragged out of the lab.

Jemma was confused and tried to think of every motive as to why SHIELD wanted to question Leo about. Not really understanding the motive for such request, she decided to call her father; perhaps he had answers.

"Dad, something strange just happened," Jemma began as soon as Coulson answered the phone. "An agent just came to the lab and took Leo for questioning. What –"

"I know," Coulson sighed.

"You know? Dad, what's going on?"

"It's best not to speak about this through the phone. We're all in the hall by the Wall of Valor. Can you –"

"I'll be right there."

* * *

When Coulson told her they were _all_ by the Wall of Valor, he really meant all as in everyone in the family. Trip, Grant, Lance, Skye and Bobbi (who was now Lance's girlfriend and mother of their baby girl, Amidala) were there, standing by Coulson and May's side.

"What's going on?" Jemma was a lot more worried now.

Trip draped his arm around Jemma and cuddled her close to his side, "Jem, it's…"

"It's about Leo's father," May said, realizing that Trip couldn't get anything out. "We arrested a couple of HYDRA agents. All of them told us that Leo is the son of their boss' right hand man."

"So what? They could be lying."

Skye looked down at her feet, "He was found at a HYDRA lab."

"He was abandoned at the age of three," Jemma claimed. "What can he possible remember or know about him?"

"We thought the same. SHIELD checked a couple of things and… the two of them have been in touch in the past years," Coulson swallowed hard.

Jemma clenched her fists, "You think that Leo –"

"No, of course not," Coulson reassured her. "We don't think that Leo is HYDRA, but he might not know that his father is and he might be manipulating him."

"Have you interrogated with his father?"

"I was questioning him," Bobbi said, "until he bit a cyanide pill. He's currently on life support."

* * *

Four days had gone by. Bakshi was still on a coma and Leo was now in a cell because he wouldn't talk. Jemma had volunteered to take charge of Bakshi's care and was now coming to check on him in his room when she saw Bobbi leaning on the wall right next to the door, apparently waiting for her.

"You can go home, Bobbi," Jemma said. "Avri and Ami need you."

"Hunter's home with the girls," Bobbi told her. "I'm just going to keep you company."

"You don't think I know that my dad asked you to keep an eye on me? I'm not gonna hurt him. All I want is for that bastard to wake up and talk since Leo won't."

Bobbi sighed thoroughly, "Alright. Keep us posted on his condition."

"I will."

Jemma and Bobbi parted ways. As soon as the biochemist walked in the room, she sensed that something was different. She took a few seconds to attentively look at Bakshi, not being entirely sure that he was sleeping. He opened his eyes and turned his head.

"You're awake. Finally," Jemma blurted.

"I didn't know SHIELD had such high regards for my well-being."

She rolled her eyes, "We do when we need information from you. Do you know for how long you've been unconscious?"

"Not a clue."

"Four days," Jemma told him. "You put ideas in Leo's head –"

"I didn't put ideas in his head. Leo took the initiative –"

"He was questioned. Has been in a cell for the past four days. He won't talk about whatever your plan was."

Bakshi swallowed hard, "I wouldn't do anything to hurt him. He had a plan, I gave him the tools."

"Plan for what?"

"Bring down HYDRA."

Jemma leaned forward, her pupils dilating in anger, "If you want to dismantle HYDRA, why don't you talk and save us the trouble?"

"I stand with my beliefs."

"Even if they're wrong beliefs?"

"It depends on where you stand, but there's no right or wrong when it comes to convictions."

"And you're willing to put Leo's life on the line just because you believe in what you do? You, who abandoned him when he was three, telling him that you are a bad person? If you really care about Leo, you don't want him to get a glimpse of your world."

"Things got messy back then. I never wanted Leo to follow my life path, even though several HYDRA members praised him and could already imagine him as their next leader. I believed that he had the right to choose what he wanted to be. If had had the chance to raise him, I'd have sent him to border schools and I'd keep him away from my world. My beliefs don't have to be his beliefs. I… " Bakshi looked down and kept quiet for a while until he felt brave enough to admit it, "I believe in what I do, just like you believe in what you do."

"But are you willing to throw Leo into this battlefield? If you talk, you can spare him the pain."

"Why are you laying this on me? I'm just the sperm donor. You can clearly tell I'm not the wisest person to give advices. Talk him out of it."

Jemma shook her head, disappointment in her voice, "He won't listen to anyone. He's sure that you won't give us any information so he wants to fight this battle by himself… You know, Leo still believes in you. Be the person he thinks you can be; it's not too late."

"Arrange us a meeting; I'll talk him out of the idea of bringing down HYDRA. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Pleased with the answer, Jemma got up and was ready to leave.

"Agent Simmons?" Bakshi called, stop dead in her tracks.

"How do you –"

"Leo's talked a lot about you," he explained. "Once I talk, I'll be dead. HYDRA's everywhere and I don't want… I don't even know if my death will affect Leo at all, but I don't want him to feel guilty. Don't ever tell him. Tell him that I was relocated to some high-security place and that he'll never have the chance to see me."

She swirled on her heels, "As strange as it may sound, your death will upset Leo. Rest assure, I'll never tell him. I don't want him to suffer, especially because of you."

* * *

**May I remind you that there's a poll in my profile regarding this fanfiction. It'd be a tremendous help if you'd vote.**

**Also, reviews are always nice, especially when there are only two chapters left to finish this fanfiction.**


	44. Shepherd of Fire

**(Trip is 27, Lance is 24, Grant is 23, Leo is 21, Jemma is 21, Skye is 19), Avalyn is 13 and Liam &amp; Juliet are 6. + Avri is 9 and Amidala is 1. **

* * *

"Hey," Cynthia greeted as soon as she entered the apartment. She put the keys over the table by the entrance door and rattled the plastic bags, "brought chinese."

"Uhm, great," Grant hummed, pushing himself up from the couch to meet her at the door. After putting a kiss on her lips he told her, "You've got drops of blue ink on your ear."

"Damnit! Those little rug rats," she whined. "I hate 'em."

Grant chuckled, taking the bag from her and leaving it over the coffee table in the living room, "No, you don't."

Sighing, Cynthia admitted whilst hanging her jacket on the coat hanger, "No, I don't. But they get on my nerves sometimes."

"They're a bunch of toddlers, running around. How much harm can tiny people that fit in overalls do?" Grant pointed out, fetching their cutlery, because they both loved chinese food but didn't do well with chopsticks.

"Someone here has clearly never watched _Chucky_. That classroom is like a battlefield every goddam day. Laugh it, Grant," he laughed, and so she resumed when he took a seat next to her on the couch, "You spend a day with them and you'll see that being a SHIELD agent is piece of cake."

The two of them, as if in auto-pilot mode, put their feet over the coffee table and cross one ankle over the other, enjoying dinner.

"What were you watching?" Cynthia asked, grabbing the remote control.

"Baseball recaps."

"I hate baseball," she mumbled after filling her mouth with food.

"No, you don't," he shook his head and smiled.

"No, I don't. But I prefer basketball." She was flipping through the channels, trying to find something interesting that would interest the two of them. "What time do you leave tomorrow?"

"Five-thirty. I'll try not to wake you."

"If you wake me to give me a kiss, I won't complain," she grinned. "Where to this time? And don't say classified."

"Egypt," he told her before downing some more food.

Cynthia lightly elbowed Grant on his side, getting his attention. When he looked at her, he saw how her gaze had changed; her green eyes showed concern only. "Come back safe, Grant."

He gave a short nodded and pressed a kiss onto her brown hair, "Always do, Cyn." Getting the remote control from her, he continued on zapping – he wasn't comfortable yet with _those_ talks – stopping at the local news' channel.

"– _the local hero's story now. Twenty-four-year-old Sarah Porter, nurse at the Metro-General Hospital, helped a woman deliver twins. The act itself is already praiseworthy as Sarah is not an OB/GYN nurse, but what else is admirable is that Sarah aided the pregnant woman while both were trapped in an elevator_."

"She's badass," Cynthia commented, causing Grant to chuckle quietly.

When they turned their attention to the TV again, the reporter was already voicing over the news piece, "_It all happened last night when the intense winds and thunderstorm caused the power to go out. Sarah Porter and Elizabeth Nixon were sharing an elevator at the local mall, when the elevator stopped. The backup generators didn't work and after pressing the alarm button several times and obtaining not response from the premises manager, the two women realized that they were on their own. Elizabeth started worrying and went into labor. For the next hours, Sarah did her best to keep the woman calm. Once power was restored, police found Elizabeth cradling her twins, Ivan and Navi, both of perfect health._"

The nurse Sarah Porter was giving her testimony. Grant dropped his fork, eyes focused on the TV screen. Sarah had brown, wavy hair, her eyes were of a hazel color and her face… well, Grant was sure that he had seen her before. He was sure he knew who she was, and it wasn't until she waved her hand while talking that Grant confirmed that it was her indeed. Sarah Porter had a small birthmark on the inside of her wrist in the shape of a last quarter moon.

"It's her…"

"Grant," Cynthia put her hand on his arm, giving it a light squeeze.

"But –"

"I know, babe," she moved closer to him, and pressed a kiss on the side of his forehead, "I know she has the birthmark and the same name, and that she lives in the New York, but take it easy, ok? You remember what happened with Elias, don't you?"

Posting on social media that he was looking for his younger siblings was a great idea, but Grant's idea failed when he mentioned that the last time he had seen them, Sarah was ten, and Thomas was a little baby. There were many that took advantage of the fact that Grant only knew his brother as a little baby and contacted him saying that they were Thomas. Grant was ready for that eventuality, and with Cynthia's help, he managed to get pass many liars. However, Elias Blumberg seemed to be Grant's lost brother. It turned out he wasn't. He was a fifteen-year-old who befriended bad people, and his mother no longer cared about him. He was a drug addict, and even though he took advantage of Grant's good will, he still helped him. Elias was now clean of drugs and Grant was still keeping an eye on him.

"She looks like her. I don't know," he sat on the edge of the couch. "There's something about her that reminds me of Sarah."

"I'll follow down every lead with you, same as before," Cynthia promised, "but you have to promise me you won't it get to your head. This woman may not be your sister Sarah and I can't bear watching you break your heart again."

Even though Grant and Cynthia had only been dating for a year, he trusted her from day one. He told her everything about his birth family, and she was nothing but supportive, running down every lead to find his siblings.

Grant nodded his head and rested back on the couch again, "I can take it easy."

"Good," she pecked his lips, caressing his cheek with her thumb. "And we can investigate this another day. We have all the information to begin the search whenever we want. But, now you're leaving tomorrow for two weeks and I want to spend this night with my boyfriend. Is that alright?"

"Yeah," he offered a small smile, and leaned forward to kiss her. "We can do this when I get back."

* * *

At five-thirty, Grant got out of bed, fetched his duffel bag and pressing a kiss onto Cynthia's hair.

"I'll come back safe," he whispered, brushing a few hair strands off her face, putting a kiss on her cheek as well.

Cynthia was awake and as soon as she heard the door closing, she kicked back the bed sheets and dashed to the living room. She replayed the news report from the night before and noted down the details that might be useful to start her search. She couldn't bear to watch Grant's hopes be defrauded again. After Elias, they had chased other leads that led nowhere, and Cynthia was hell-bent on the idea of being the one who'd deliver the good or bad news to Grant.

A couple of hours later, upset with the fact that she was a kindergarten teacher with no hacking skills, she called Skye. The teenager lent a precious help, doing some research on Sarah Porter. Skye didn't find anything on the woman before the age of twelve, which made Cynthia feel hopeful. After a quick shower and an even quicker breakfast, Cynthia called in sick and headed to the Metro-General Hospital, in hopes to find Sarah.

* * *

"Hi," Cynthia smiled, resting her arms over the counter. "I need to speak with Nurse Sarah Porter. Is she around?"

"Yes, I am," a voice said behind her. Cynthia turned to face the woman, "You are?"

"Cynthia Ellison," she presented her hand for a handshake, which Sarah politely conceded. "Do you have a minute?"

"Sure," Sarah tilted with her head and spun her heels, "Follow me."

The nurse guided Cynthia to the medical staff's break room and gestured to the chairs around the round table.

"Want something to drink?"

"No, thank you," the kindergarten teacher said, taking a seat.

Sarah filled herself a cup of coffee and sat across from her, "What is it that you want to speak with me?"

"Your brother is looking for you for a long time now."

"I –" Sarah seemed confused, "I saw my brother this morning. I'm sorry, who are you really?"

"I'm Grant's girlfriend."

Sarah got up quickly and grabbed Cynthia's arm, forcing her to stand up, "I'm sorry, I don't know who that is and I want you –"

"Yes, you know Grant. He's been looking for you and Thomas for a long time."

"I've told you I don't know who Grant is," Sarah insisted, pushing Cynthia towards the door.

Cynthia started talking as fast as he could, "You were born at home, on the 5th of January and you were never registered you because father Brody despised you and was so disappointed because you were born a girl. As your family lived in the middle of nowhere, there was no one to confirm that you existed. You've never been to school until you were twelve and you were adopted by Jack and Amelia Porter. He's a firefighter; she's a chef at a restaurant downtown, Podium. But going back to your biological family; you have an older brother, Christian, and two younger brothers, Grant and Thomas," Cynthia felt the grip on her arm getting loose. "He had just been born a couple of months ago, and your mother Esther hadn't had the time to go to the registry office downtown and register him either, so when Grant took you and Thomas away, the police had no idea that you two existed."

"Are you really Grant's girlfriend?" Sarah's eyes were brewing with tears.

"Yes. We saw you last night on the news, for helping deliver the twins on the elevator. Congrats on that, by the way."

"Is Grant okay?"

Cynthia firstly nodded and then supplied, "He's fine. He's working out of the country for the next two weeks. That's why I came to see you, alone. I need to make sure that you are his sister because I can't bear to watch him get his heart broken again."

"He promised he'd come back for us," Sarah mumbled on the verge of tears.

"_Grant," Sarah wailed, tears streaming down her face._

"_It's for the best, Sar. Christian and dad are wolves. I can't let them hurt you and Thomas."_

"_And you?"_

_Grant looked down, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palms in rage, "It doesn't hurt anymore."_

"_It does," the girl claimed. "He's gonna hurt you so bad. Don't go home, Grant. Christian is bad too, but you are not."_

_He looked up at his sister and told her, "I'll come back."_

"_It's a promise."_

"I waited for days on end but he never came," Sarah clamped her mouth, her whole body shaking, "Our father once beat him up so bad that he couldn't move for a whole week. I thought… I though he had killed him."

Cynthia hugged Sarah, running her hand up and down her back in a futile attempt to sooth her, "He almost did. That son of a bitch almost killed Grant." After parting the hug, Cynthia continued, "In the next morning, Brody didn't find Thomas so he asked your mother about him. Grant only remembers her begging that she didn't know anything and then -" she blinked, trying not to cry, "then he only remembers a pool of blood on the kitchen floor and your father burying your mother in the backyard."

"Son of a…" Sarah sobbed. "He killed her! I know she was as guilty as he was because she never tried to stop anything he did, but –"

"It got a lot worse, Sarah."

"No," Panic spread across her face. "What happened?"

"After asking your mother, he turned to Christian. He beat him up until he managed to run away and call the police. Christian didn't even look back when he pushed Grant into the house and ran away."

"_Christian!" Grant let out a distressed high pitched scream as his brother shut the glassed door and held the door knob so that Grant couldn't get out._

_Grant kept on glancing between his father that approached him and Christian on the outside, not letting him open the door. The little boy pounded on the door, begging and crying. Brody was coming closer in slow steps, terrifying Grant to his core. He cried, big tears pouring down his face, his shrill screams echoed throughout the house. His legs gave in and Grant knelt on the floor, hands tightly grabbing the doorknob, looking up at his father. His pupils were dilated, darker, more sinister. _

"_It was you," Brody's voice came out low. He grabbed Grant by the collar of his T-shirt and pulled him up off the floor effortlessly. "If you tell me where you Thomas is, I won't beat you as much as I want to right now." _

_The boy shook his head, "I won't tell you."_

"_Then so God help you," he said before smacking Grant's head against the glassed door._

_Christian jumped back, eyes wide open in horror at what he had just seen. He ran away without even thinking of walking in the house and rescuing his little brother. _

"The police found Grant tied up to the radiator, unconscious, bloodied…" Cynthia started to cry. "I read the police's report. I saw the photos. Your father was an animal. If he wasn't dead, I would have killed him with my bare hands."

Sarah threw her head back, hands resting on her hips, trying to breathe in and out without breaking into tears again, "They arrested him, didn't they?"

"Yes. And he's been dead for a couple of years now, no need to worry anymore."

"How did he die?"

"Brain cancer. He got out of jail after being diagnosed."

"I hope he suffered," Sarah said. "And Grant and Christian? What happened to them?"

Cynthia breathed thoroughly before explaining, "They were split and put to adoption. I don't know if Christian's family was good to him but the family that adopted Grant is amazing. How did it go for you and Thomas? From what I read, the Porter's seem like a good family."

"They're perfect," Sarah told her with a smile. "Thomas still lives with them. He's a sophomore and captain of the football team. He's a good kid."

"I'm so glad things worked out," Cynthia sympathetically rubbed her forearm. "You know, it's not that I don't believe you but I want, I _need_ proof that you are Grant's sister."

"I understand. You want to make sure." Sarah ended up smiling, acknowledging, "You really care about him. He's a lucky guy." Tugging gently on her hair with both her hands, Sarah broke a couple of strands of hair and gave them to Cynthia, "I think you can get something from Grant to run a DNA test."

"I'll let you know about the results as soon as I have them."

"Look for me here."

* * *

_A few weeks later_

"Ready for it, Shooter?"

Grant rested his head over the steering wheel, "I think I'm gonna throw up."

Once the DNA results came, Cynthia gave the news to both Sarah and Grant. It was a match. They had finally found each other after fourteen years. Sarah gave Cynthia her apartment address and invited Thomas over so that the siblings could reunite.

Cynthia stepped out of the car and opened the driver's door, pulling Grant by the arm, "C'mon, stop being a little boy."

A bit reluctant because of the nervousness, Grant got out of the car and looked at the apartment building behind him. His stomach growled and he felt sick. He was worried and anxious and could barely stand on his legs.

"You've done so much, Cyn, but if Sarah and Thomas don't like me, I don't want you there… I have to do this alone."

"No, you don't," she said, holding his hand. "I'm with you, every step of the way. We've walked down a long road and I want to finish this with you. You have no idea of how much I admire you, Grant. You are a winner, you never gave in, and even though many lied to you, you never gave up. And I can tell you that the moment I realized that I love you was when you decided to help Elias when you didn't have to. I had never met anyone like you and I don't want to miss the chance to see you finish this stage of your life. You deserve to be happy, and I want to be there too. Don't you think that I deserve to see this through the end?"

"Of course. You helped me so much. You were the one who always stood by my side, the first person I absolutely trusted from day one."

"So, still think you need to do this alone?"

Grant intertwined his fingers on hers and smiled, "No, I don't. I'm such a lucky guy," he confessed, kissing her.

* * *

**Next chapter will be the last one and we'll jump forward in time a little more. **


	45. Superheroes Learned to Fly

**Exceptionally on this chapter, as it is the last one, the characters' ages are on the end of this chapter, to avoid spoiling the plot for everyone. However you feel confused at the amount of names and people referred, you can scroll all the way to the bottom and learn about whom everyone is, and you can also have a mental image of each one of them by looking at the cover image (it's a small image, but it's something).**

* * *

The doorbell rings for the first time. Coulson goes to open, meeting Trip, his wife, Katie, and their children. Kenzie and Kaylee, the oldest twins, greet their grandfather while sending a text message and walk to the kitchen to greet their grandmother. Katie greets the old man too and walks past him, carrying a heavy turkey that she needs to put in the oven. Jodie and Jessie, also twins, are much warmer with their greetings than their older sisters, taking much longer, arms wrapped around their grandfather. Trip smiles and walks in as well carrying a lot of presents, being aided by the youngest of the Triplett family, Gabe.

"Presents upstairs, please," Coulson tells them, pointing to the staircase, "office room."

Trip and Gabe immediately march upstairs to leave the presents at the designated room. Only the children – and teenagers – were getting gifts; the adults were getting only one present, given by a randomly selected family member. It doesn't take much long till the boy's running steps can be heard throughout the whole house. He nearly bumps into his older sisters who are exiting the kitchen to take a sit at the couch. The young twins repeat the gesture, only the two of them are going to watch TV.

"Careful, mister," Katie mildly reprimands as Gabe walks in the kitchen at full speed.

"Watcha makin', grandma?" Gabe asks, taking a seat on the stool at the island, kicking his heels against the rung on the stool.

"Eggnog," May responds. "Want some?"

"Yup," he nods.

"Go ask your sisters if they want some too."

Gabe slides off of the stool and is poised to run out the kitchen but stops by the door, swiftly turning on his heels, "Grandma, has anyone else arrived?"

"Not yet, but everyone will be here soon."

The boy lets out a sigh and walks to the living room; for now it's just him and his sisters who he gets to see every day. He cannot wait for his cousins to arrive, particularly his boy cousins.

Coulson and Katie take over the kitchen, preparing additional dishes for the Christmas dinner while May and Trip are preparing the dining room to host the dinner. It requires a lot of effort to fit thirty-five people in one room. After a lot of deliberating, the tables are disposed in a U-form. The tables are all of different sizes and shapes and there are not enough matching plates and cutlery for everyone, but it just adds to the appeal.

The doorbell rings again. Gabe sees his mother and grandfather in the kitchen and his father and grandmother in the dining room. Kaylee gets up to open the door and he tails her; all of his uncles have at least one boy in their little family, and he had been waiting for almost half an hour now for a playmate. It's the Ward family.

"Hey," Gabe greets in a perky voice.

Ellison waves her hand and smiles; Gabe quickly responds in the same way, and while everyone is exchanging hugs and kisses, his grin grows as he looks at Gary. Finally! Garrison's smile resembles his and he simply barges in, the two boys immediately start chatting and playing together. Ellie runs inside too, running to greet the family. Cynthia and Grant are still standing by the door, looking at each other and chuckle quietly.

Kaylee simply shakes her head and inhales, looking at her uncle and aunt, "C'mon, I'll help ya."

The three head to the car to gather the presents and the pies. Cynthia takes the presents upstairs while Grant moves to the kitchen; he figures another pair of helping hands will be welcomed. And indeed it is. Even though everyone is bringing something to the dinner, feeding so many people on such a festive day isn't an easy task. The house gets louder now; the younger girls are entertained together, so are the two boys.

Kenzie and Kaylee wonder when Juliet and the Morse-Hunter girls will be arriving. Juliet had already warned that she'd be arriving later; she would be bringing her boyfriend, Edwin, and the thought of introducing him to her big, loud and peculiar family scared her. Introducing her boyfriend to her father scared her even more. But Juliet is sure that nothing could scare Eddie away; after all, he is the son of Tony Stark, he grew up in a world of peculiar settings. Besides, for all intents and purposes, Eddie will not be staying for dinner, so his visit will be quick; he is going to spend Christmas with his parents.

"We're gonna build a snowman," Gary tells the girls. "Wanna come too?"

Jessie, Jodie and Ellie scramble off the couch and dash to the door, following Gary and Gabe.

"Where are you all going?" Cynthia asks, putting the dish cloth over her shoulder.

"We're gonna build a snowman," Ellie explains.

"Well, bundle up then," the woman advises. "I don't want anyone getting sick."

The kids grunt but wrap the scarves around their necks, put on their earflap beanies and gloves and button up their duffel coats before walking out to the front yard. Soon they are no longer building a snowman but starting a snowball fight. They laugh, happy and carefree, running around in the yard, not even noticing the car parking across the street. They only realize someone has arrived when Gary rubs the back of his head after being hit by a snowball. The five look back and see that it was Lance who threw it. Bobbi, Lance and Ami take their time greeting the kids, and if the two women walk in the house with Hunter, the triplet boys – affectionately called the Star Wars triplets –, Luca, Mace and Jedi, stay outside, playing.

"Avri didn't come?" May asks as she hugs Bobbi.

"She's coming later," Bobbi tells her.

"Ah, another one," Coulson says from the kitchen.

May points to the staircase upon seeing Lance coming in through the garage door, carrying gifts, "They're big girls, Phil. They can't be attached at the hip with their parents for the rest of their lives."

"Juliet's too young to have a boyfriend," he claims, leaning against the kitchen's doorframe.

May rolls her eyes, resuming to her task with Trip, "And you're too old to speak bullshit."

Kenzie and Kaylee chuckle, not as quietly as they wished, and Coulson pretends to be upset with the three of them.

Cynthia taps his father-in-law's shoulder, "I think the cookies are starting to burn."

Coulson runs back into the kitchen, heading to the oven. A cloud of black smoke fills the air, but luckily the cookies aren't all burned. There are enough to give one to each child, just as they requested, leaving the oven available for the turkey.

Trip moves over to the couch, leans over its back and takes away his daughters' phones, "Socialize. Or help."

Kaylee and Kenzie shrug and go to the kitchen. The two rest their forearms over the counter of the island and watch Coulson, Katie, Cynthia and Grant working like a well-oiled machine.

"Anything we can help with?" Kenzie asks.

"Yes." "No." Katie and Coulson reply in unison.

Coulson looks at his daughter-in-law who explains, "The only help they lend in the kitchen is eating."

"Um, she's lying," Kaylee says, popping a cookie into her mouth.

"See?" Katie chuckles, resuming to her task.

The sound of the keys turning in the door lock goes unnoticed because of all the noise and movement inside the Coulson's house. May, however, sees her youngest son walking in, hand in hand with his girlfriend Rose.

"I thought you were spending Christmas at the farm," May says, walking to the two of them.

"She was going to," Liam begins, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"But Uncle Tony insisted some much that my parents just gave in and so we're spending Christmas at the Tower," Rose explains. "I came with Liam just to say hello to everyone and wish a Merry Christmas."

"Well," May gestures, "make yourself at home. Almost everyone's here."

Once Liam is already in another division, Rose comments with May, "Juliet is at the Tower."

"You can tell her to come because her father is going to behave."

Rose grins and adds quietly, "Yeah, but Eddie is the one who's scared to come."

Everyone is talking and mingling when the kids – Luca, Mace, Jedi, Gary, Ellie, Jodie, Jessie and Gabe – walk in, running. The house is even noisier, adults talking here and there, and the kids playing in the living room. Jemma knocks on the door once, twice, three times. No one comes to open. She has to phone someone to let them know that she, Leo, Linus and Belinda are outside, freezing. The four scurry inside, seeking shelter from the snowfall. It takes them almost fifteen minutes to greet everybody.

"Bring your sister with you," Coulson asks Liam just before he leaves to take Rose back to the Stark Tower.

"I'll see what I can do," he sighs and quickly exits the kitchen before his father tells him to drag his sister home.

Once outside, Liam turns to Rose, "Still can't scare you away?"

"My parents are Hawkeye and Black Widow, I grew up surrounded by superheroes, Uncle Tony once spent $1000 on sundaes at Serendipity's as a just because gift. Your family can't scare me, Li."

Liam sighs contentedly, "Good. 'Cause I really like having you around."

"Uncle Liam!" a tiny, cute voice croons.

He barely has time to process anything, only feeling Daisy flinging her little body at his legs. He scoops her up under the armpits and perches her on his hip. With a little more effort he loops his arm around Jackson's torso and picks him up too.

"Hey monkeys, how are ya?"

The two speak at the same time and happily wriggle in his arms. Thankfully Matt shows up at the right time, tapping his cane ahead of him – even though it's through patches of snow –, and takes Daisy from his arms, being easier for Liam to put Jack down on his feet again.

Jack and Daisy run to the doorbell and insistently press their finger on it until the door opens for them. Matt briefly greets Liam and follows after his children. Skye comes right after, bringing wrapped gifts.

"Where are you goin'?" she asks.

"I'm gonna take Rose to the Tower and tell Ju that Dad is ok with the thought of her introducing her boyfriend to the family."

"He's not ok with the thought of Juliet having a boyfriend to begin with," Skye comments, "He wasn't happy either when I introduced him to devil of Hell's Kitchen over there. Only person he approved was AJ's boyfriend."

"He's the grandson of Peggy Carter and Daniel Sousa. It wouldn't be hard for Dad to like him," Liam points out.

"Anyway, where did Rose go?"

Liam points to the car and Skye follows his finger with her eyes, excitedly waving at the girl. The two part ways; Liam walks to the car and Skye walks to the front door. She's about to close the door when she hears a voice calling her.

"Wait, wait!" Avri huffs, running the few steps to the door.

"What were you doin' out there? It's freezing outside," Skye asks.

Avri pats the snow off her jacket, "Just arrived. And you?"

"Just arrived too. Where's George?"

"We broke up a month ago," the younger confesses, looking at her feet.

Skye grimaces, "Sorry. Didn't know."

"It's okay. My dad's happy, though."

"No, he's not. I know Lance seems to be insensitive sometimes, but he's not happy. No dad likes that their daughters have boyfriends, but they are as miserable as we are when we get our hears broken."

"That's what Bobbi tells me too."

"That's because it's true. Alright, but enough with the sadness. Today's Christmas Eve," Skye wraps her arm around her niece's shoulder and guides her to the living room, "let's have fun."

In no less than half an hour, Juliet walks in the house. Edwin is frozen by the entrance.

"Ed?" she asks, looking back. "Ed, come inside."

"It can't, Ju. Sorry," he grins sheepishly.

"Damn, you are really a Stark boy, aren't you?" Juliet rolls her eyes, grabbing his wrist.

It's as if his presence triggered a signal that alerted Coulson; in seconds flat, the family man is meeting Tony Stark and Pepper Potts' firstborn.

"Edwin," Coulson greets with a straight face.

He swallows hard, breathes in thoroughly and stretches out his hand, "Sir."

Much for Eddie's surprise – and Juliet's, and even May's – Coulson pulls Edwin for a hug, clapping his back, "Welcome to the family, son."

"T-thank you, Sir."

"Phil, please. Call me Phil. Make yourself at home. I have to go back to the kitchen."

"That was… unexpected," Eddie comments with Juliet once her father is gone.

Juliet eyes widen, "I was gonna say weird, but let's go with unexpected. C'mon, I'll introduce you properly to my fam."

The clock is almost striking seven o'clock – Edwin has already returned to Stark Tower long ago – when Avalyn and her boyfriend David arrive. Strapped to Dave's chest, their baby girl Maggie sleeps, in the baby carrier, and Avalyn is carrying a diaper bag.

"I'm sorry we're late," Avalyn starts apologizing. "Maggie was cranky and traffic was a mess."

"It's alright," May reassures, stroking her youngest granddaughter's downy hair. "Apparently it'll still take a while for dinner. Make yourselves comfortable."

* * *

It's now the 26th and May stills finds pieces of wrapping paper here and there.

"Ugh," she huffs, "I hate Christmas."

"You like it," Coulson says, flipping the newspaper's page.

"No, I don't."

He raises a brow, "A little bit?"

"Little bit," she admits, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "I still don't believe it."

"What?" Coulson puts down the newspaper, giving his wife full attention.

"Fifty years of marriage, nine children, seventeen grandchildren."

He smiles so genuinely that his eyes crinkle, "Pretty amazing, isn't it?"

"I don't know how come I endured you for so long."

"I know," he quietly chuckles. "Thank you for proving me that superheroes don't have to have super powers and fly around." Coulson grabs her hand on his and puts a tender kiss on its back, "You are amazing, Mel."

"We're a team, Phil, have always been."

"We're a wonderful team. I'm so glad for having met you."

She doesn't say anything, simply lays her head on his shoulder, hoping that the gesture is enough to thank him for their fifty happy years of marriage, for their nine children, for their seventeen grandchildren.

"I still love you like the first day," he confesses.

"I do too."

* * *

_**Main characters:**_

_**Philip "Phil" James Coulson (73), Melinda "Mel" Qiaolian May-Coulson (69), Antoine Gabriel Triplett "Trip" (43), Lance Hubert Hunter (40), Grant Douglas Ward (39), Leopold "Leo" Finlay Fitz (37), Jemma "Jem" Anne Simmons (37), Daisy Louise "Skye" Johnson (35), Avalyn Johanna "Ava-Jo" Coulson (29), and Liam "Li" Robert Coulson &amp; Juliet "Ju" Lian Coulson (22);**_

_**In-laws: **_

_**Katherine "Katie" Harley Triplett (40), Barbara "Bobbi" Susanne Morse (40), Cynthia "Cyn" Rhea Ward (38), Matthew "Matt" Michael Murdock (37), David "Dave" Carter Sousa (33), [Rose Lidiya Romanoff-Barton (22), Edwin "Eddie" Howard Stark (25)];**_

_**Children: **_

_**Morse-Hunter: Avri May (25), Amidala "Ami" Isabelle (17), Luca Alfred &amp; Mace Eugene &amp; Jedi Ignatius (11); **_

_**Triplett: Mackenzie "Kenzie" Rae &amp; Mckayla Lee "Kaylee" (16), Zariah Jodelle "Jodie" &amp; Zeliah Jessabelle "Jessie" (12), Gabriel "Gabe" Antoine (9); **_

_**Ward: Garrison "Gary" Elias (11), Ellison "Ellie" Thomasina (7); **_

_**Murdock: Jackson "Jack" Fillip (8), Daisy Melanie (6);**_

_**Fitz-Simmons: Linus Pilbin Jude (7), Belinda "Bel" Maeve Ruby (4); **_**– Notice that Linus is Sunil spelled backwards and Pilbin is the Scottish variation of Philip.**

_**Coulson-Sousa: Margaret "Maggie" Danielle (1).**_


End file.
